My friend up the road, mystery writer Cynthia Riggs, has started a blog about life in and around her corner of West Tisbury. So far she’s blogged about grapes, hops, getting old, writing mysteries, and the hen that stowed away in a car trunk. Don’t miss it!
This year we had a bonanza crop of grapes.
The grape arbor is next to the small studio where Lynn Christoffers, our resident photographer, lives and works. She’d been watching the grapes progress from blossoms to green marbles to fragrant purple gems. Yellow jackets were moving in to dine on the overripe ones.
“We need to harvest them soon,” she said.
She and a bed and breakfast guest went to work, clipping off bunches of lush grapes and by mid-afternoon, baskets of grapes covered every available surface in my kitchen.
Outdoors, grapes attract yellow jackets. Indoors, it’s fruit flies. I had to do something with the full baskets and their mist of hovering fruit flies before I had room enough to prepare supper. I was in the throes of a deadline and in no mood to deal with a mountain of grapes. I felt mildly resentful of the fact that…
View original post 425 more words
From the Seasonally Occupied Territories . . . 