Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now

The people who owned our house before us planted more than 30 feet of grape vines, several varieties, all seedless. It reminds me of the saying that the best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. These grapes probably were planted at least that far back. This year, we harvested almost 90 pounds. Mostly we make raisins with them (the ones we don’t gorge on while picking). But this year, I bought a steam juicer and we also made juice for the first time. It was easy and delicious. We water-bath canned it for safety. And we store the raisins in the freezer for the same reason.

It is tedious work that takes several days and it is happening all over the world, the harvesting and processing of grapes. I remember years ago driving along the Rhone River in France, maybe near Beaucaire. The slopes west of the river rose away from us, with old old vines, their scions fat and gnarled. It was early September and a harvest was under way. People doing the harvesting, not machines.

I have the satisfaction of our own harvest on our little plot of land in the southern end of the Willamette Valley. Another vine, unseen, connects me across the continents of this blue-green planet to all the others plucking plump fruit as Earth tilts and summer shifts to fall.