This evening my sweet neighbor walked over holding this beautiful, wonderful basket full of Concord grapes. I happen to adore Concord grapes. When I was a little girl, there was a spindly vine or two of these in our neighbors yard. My big brother used to hoist me up on his bony shoulders and I would pull down small bunches of grapes with small, greedy fists.
They were such a dark purple they looked nearly black. Some were mirror sleek, others looked as if they were dusted with frost. We would pop them into our mouths--- smooshing the thick, tart skin against the tops of our mouths. Inside that skin we would find the smooth, slippery sweetness that tasted like all the flavor of summer distilled into one oval burst of flavor.
Tonight, on my kitchen counter, is a basket full of memories and the flavor of summer. How lucky can I be?
2 comments:
are you making us memory jam with those? :-D
Girl, we didn't have Concords here,we have scuppernongs!!! Much better!!LOL
Post a Comment