Life of the Lintee Bean

In contrast to my mother’s green thumb, I have a “black thumb of death” when it comes to gardening.  I do have a few things growing in my yard, and they’re generally either weeds or plants former owners put in and I’ve ignored.  Among those items surviving my presence is a grape vine.  It’s rather large, but despite having lived here several years, prior to this year I’d never actually had any grapes.  Not that grapes didn’t grow on the vine – they did, lots of them.  However, every year I’d wait for the grapes to ripen, and about the time it seemed they’d be ready – the birds (grackels, to be specific) would have eaten EVERY SINGLE ONE.

This year I thought I’d attempt to save a few of the grapes for myself.  I purchased some netting and a few weeks ago, I draped it over a small section of the vine.  I didn’t mind the birds having MOST of the grapes, I just wanted a few for myself.  It was only a couple weeks later that I saw many grapes were falling off the vine, and after a taste-test, I decided they were ready.

I spent significant time last weekend picking grapes.  (It’s not nearly as easy as Keanu Reeves makes it appear in “Walk in the Clouds”.)  I also pulled weeds – and possibly my back in the process.

All told, I had over six pounds of grapes.  It doesn’t sound like a lot – but trust me, it is.  I was already sick
of grapes just from picking them.  I set aside a few bunches for myself and decided to take the rest to work.

Well, unfortunately for me and my many pounds of grapes, my coworkers apparently aren’t big fans of grapes.  After sitting in the office all day, I drug most of them back home again.  A friend suggested freezing them, so I spent that evening rinsing and picking off the stems and bagging… and you know, I’ve tried tossing a few in my morning smoothie – and I am just REALLY sick of grapes.

Next year, the birds can have them all.