I’ve been trying to find grapes to buy for years. No joke. Years. There is a place down the road about 10 miles and honestly, I think they tease me with their sign advertising blueberries, blackberries, and grapes. Every year for the past 3 years I have called them. None of the above. Ever. Yet I see the vines and bushes from the road looking pretty full to me. In my mind I’ve concocted a story. That’s what I do with my overactive imagination. Easier to deal with the pain of no grapes. To start my story, I believe there’s an interview and if they like you maybe not even like you let’s say they approve of you then you can pick grapes. But you have to prove your worth first. The interview goes like this:
He/She: What are you doing with the grapes?
Buyer: Going to turn them into wine.
He/She: No grapes for you! That is Satan’s drink! Out, you drunkard, out before we keel haul you!
They chase the poor buyer off the property with switches and whips made from grape vine cuttings.
He/She: What are you doing with these fine grapes?
Buyer: I’m not sure maybe jelly maybe freezing them for later.
He/She: No plan! No grapes! Get out you indecisive fool! Out, before I throw you out!
In my mind, He/She changes their mind and actually picks up Buyer and tosses her out by her belt loops.
Finally, there is me:
He/She: What are you doing with our pride and joy, the grapes?
Me/Buyer: I am turning them into my creation, Jammin’ Jelly, a creative recipe that uses crushed grapes but with more of a jelly-like consistency. I am also making pies many pies to distribute among those less fortunate.
He/She: Pick me up onto their shoulders and hoist me out to the vines. They deposit me in a shady bower and pick my grapes for me. Crying and laughing at Me/Buyer who finally appreciates the grapes. ‘Where O where have you been all these years?’ ‘You are the perfect buyer!’ ‘So light and fragrant like our grapes!’
The sun is slowly setting as they shoulder me once again and parade me to my car, load my grapes, and send me on my way in a shower of petals and air kisses.
JOLT, back to reality. I have to drive about an hour to the southeast. Pick them myself in sacks I bring along. But, I can’t wait to do it. Next week will be a cool week, low 80s. I’ll bring a drink and snack and take a break under the vines. I don’t really have a plan except my Jammin’ Jelly and maybe try my hand at pickling them. If I pick enough, I may make some juice. Whatever the case, I don’t really care. I am just glad this dearth of grapes has come to an end.