As I picked the succulent concord grapes this morning I could hear my grandma in my mind. She was instructing me how to pick the big clusters but to be sure not to miss the little bunches even just one or two grapes . I remember her showing me how to break off the stems because I was too small to use the paring knife she was using. Today I used the knife like her. I brought the grapes in and filled the sink like she used to, cleaning them off and getting ready to juice them. In my mind she let me know that I was taking the easy way out by using my steam juicer instead of cracking out the Victoria strainer.
Fortunately for me there was a bit of extra juice that did not fit in my last quart jar, just about a cup. As I sipped the sweet nectar from those tiny orbs, I again remembered Grandma, and I wanted to be better. I wanted to make more food at home, to leverage the chest freezer, and maybe even can some venison or at least chicken. Who knows, maybe when my first grandchild is born I can put up some venison or cherries that will still be around when they are married, just so they remember that they should try to do as much as they can with what they have.
I think this spring I will plant a raspberry bramble at the Roberts' cabin. Something that can run wild and provide just a little of Grandma's love for the Great-Grand-Kids to feel. Maybe it will draw the animals in like the old corn cob feeder used to. Maybe with a little prodding from some of these things, we can remember to be just a little better than we are, just like she would have wanted!