This weekend we traveled to our part of the Italian vineyards to pick, stomp and play in the grapes. Our personal Italian vineyard is owned by a real Italian woman who generously lets us pick her grapes every year. Packing ladders, buckets and scissors we pick grapes for 3 hours filling 12 4-gallon buckets.
Always being careful to wear my official canning shirt, I welcome grape splats as a sign of an Italian want-a-be. After hours of juicing, my imagination runs wild and I remember the cool movie of the beautiful Italian woman falling in love and squishing the grapes with her toes in a family dance in a beautiful white dress that never seems to get dirty. You remember the movie, the vineyard starts on fire and the mother vine remains intact and the beautiful woman and lover will spend the rest of their lives rebuilding the vineyard... It's amazing how my mind goes after hours and hours of juicing. Now I'm dancing around the kitchen, stomping the wood floor feeling the would be grapes between my toes...
Reality check.... My Italian lover needs the bottles to put into the water bath. Oh, Romeo, Romeo come dance in the grapes with me....
All done. Now to wash the grape stains from my toes.
