Grape Expectations

Day 326: I am envious of people with phone apps which can turn everyday photos into works of art imitative of the Old Masters. Not having a smartphone, the best I can do is fiddle settings in PaintShop Pro until I come up with something like this. Oh, well. That said, I have great...or should I say grape? expectations for the harvest this year, provided the jays don't get them all before they're fully ripe. The vine is laden with bunches, large and small, and through no effort on my part. I've tried several different pruning methods over the years to no avail, so this last winter, I threw my hands in the air and said, "Do what you will, grape! I'm going to leave you to your own designs." I see so many old grapevines rambling over garage roofs, clambering up fences, each one full of grapes in season: ignored, let go wild, untended, and fruiting like crazy. Maybe that's what Interlaken wanted. Technically, I suppose you'd call it a wine grape, or at least the friend who gave it to me dug it up, 25 years old if it was a day, and about 25' long on both sides when he delivered it only grew grapes with a mind to making wine. The fruit is small and seedless, tastes something like a Concord. The vine is now almost 50 years old and, in its tenure here, I've harvested a respectable crop of grapes only two or three times, missing one opportunity when I thought I'd leave the bunches through one night of light frost, only to discover that the jays prefer grapes a little tart. When I went out in the morning, Tupperware bowl tucked under my arm, there was not a single grape remaining, so thorough had they been in the hours just after dawn. Maybe I should wrap netting around some of the better bunches to preserve them for my own enjoyment. I don't mind sharing part of the harvest, just not all of it.