Grapes of Wrath
The trouble with those leafy, picturesque grape arbor thingies that provide shade from the pitiless summer sun (we had that here this year) is that they eventually, well, produce grapes. I didn’t realize just how prolific the vines growing over our deck had been until last week. Gorged on the heavy rains and nudged by some pre-winter gusts from the south, the whole structure partially collapsed one afternoon.
I spent Sunday “harvesting” the grapes from between the wire netting, drenching myself in their useless juice as I pitched them into a plastic garbage can, no bevy of doe-eyed virgins to assist my poor man’s bacchanalia.
