Amid the vine-leaves were grapes of royal purple-hue, their colour all the more eye catching for the green leaves that nurtured them.
Upon a wooden plinth, a piece of old oak that had survived the ages, was a bunch of nature-perfected grapes.
They were such sweet globes of green and purple-blue, those grapes. Each one was a bite of summer sweetness.
In the 70s and 80s grapes were a treat, the same way soda pop was too - only for special occasions. I guess that's not so easy to imagine nowadays in western supermarket stores, it seems that the food grows right there on the ever-bountiful shelves. I've stopped buying them though, and bananas too, the tropical fruits that often travel so far. Not wine though. Wine stays. Gotta draw the line somewhere.
Upon the vines, upon that blue verandah, the green grapes were more food for the racoons than they were for us. But God they were beautiful upon the pergola beams, the racoons and the grapes.
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