About ten years ago, when it became obvious that my Mom would not be able to stay in her house because of failing health, my siblings and I cleared the house to put it on the market. That’s a hard thing to do with nearly 50 years of memories. On my last trip over to Lewisburg WV, my son Jimmie mentioned that he would like to save some of the grape vine in the back yard. Jimmie and all of us remember Daddy George picking ripe grapes from his vines and sharing with any willing grandchildren.
All I know about grape vines would make a very short book.
Chapter 1
“I don’t know anything about grapes or grapevines. The end.”
But I thought it would be cool if somehow, we could establish part of what had been Daddy’s vines here in Virginia, and maybe later even Georgia. So on a cold, February morning, I took a shovel and a maddock to the back, whacked and dug and finally extracted two pieces of what I had hoped were roots.
I took them back home, and not knowing what to do exactly, I dug a couple holes in my garden near the fence and buried the roots, leaving part above the ground. To make matters worse, Nancy didn’t know what I had done with the roots. She saw one sticking up, thought it was a loose stick and pulled it up.
Now, Daddy George’s Virginia Vineyard was down to one solitary root in my garden. We waited and watched, then miraculously in late May, we saw a shoot coming from the root. The vine was alive, but barely. It didn’t do much for about three years, but it was alive.
Jimmie suggested we put wires on our fence so the vine would spread out. He did, and it did, but nothing ever resembling a grape appeared. Three summers ago, we finally saw one cluster of little green grapes, but as quickly as they came, they disappeared. Then for the next two years, nothing. It was beginning to look like we’d never have any grapes, but the vine, now with several stems coming from the ground, was still alive.
This spring, Nancy did a little research on growing grapes and created a trellis off of the fence, so the leaves could get sun on both sides. As the vines sprouted, the leaves appeared very healthy, so they obviously liked whatever she did. And then, this past weekend, I went out to check on my tomato plants, glanced at the sprawling vines, and lo and behold, there were baby grapes. Five or six clusters. I was ecstatic. Nancy came running to see our Grand-Grapes and she too, was excited.
Our good friend Nancy McCay, said she once knew a gardener who tied plastic bags around the grapes, so they could ripen before the birds got to them. When the grapes are a bit larger, I’m going to do exactly that.
I don’t begrudge the birds eating a few grapes, but I look forward to picking some right from the vine, thinking about Daddy George and all my wonderful family memories growing up in Lewisburg.
And I’m going to have myself some grapes.
