In memory  –  Father’s Day 2019

His mother named him Carlos, such a strange name for a Welshman. Perhaps she loved Spain.  We said goodbye  by a bed near a window  deep with winter.

Summers heavy cloak hung over fields of Goldenrod, their long limbs reaching out to mesh with spiky leaves that sheltered bundles of marmalade florets.Their invasion of the meadow met with merciless machetes that hacked through  the unwelcome invaders who hadn’t the courtesy to extend a pleasant fragrance.

The trail led to an arbor by a trickling brook. Nestled  in a stand of trees a precarious trellis  bowed heavy  with  never ending appendages that wound and wove through dense clusters of bulbous translucent nipples clinging tenaciously to their host.

The scent of peppery earth stung the nostrils and attracted white tail deer that ravaged the vines of their treasure. The old man once snaked a garden hose through the lattice to frighten them, a guise that worked only to  astonish lovers lingering at fertile ground, a sacred rendezvous.

Soon the clammy dragons of summer breathed their fiery breath and the skin of the luminous fruit burst with the sweetest nectar and they were declared  ripe and ready to harvest by a sacred secret known only to the old man and his son. Ruptured with a pestle and filtered, the grapes were processed and stored in Bell jars, sweet and crisp, underdeveloped, but heady and pleasant.

Rarely did my father materialize from his travels once I had been delivered for the summer yet somehow the harvesting  of the grapes invoked his presence like a lark at dawn.

 

vitis rotundifolia

77 thoughts on “Muscadine

  1. A wonderful tribute to your Father dear Holly.. I had a smile at the garden hose and those unsuspecting lovers lol.. 🙂 Such a beautiful poem, that had my senses visualising all that was written.. 🙂
    Sending huge hugs your way Holly.. xxx ❤

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  2. This was such a loving tribute to Your father! You had me with these lines – “I said goodbye by a bed near a window deep with winter.” This was such a wonderful word picture of a young girl’s memory of her father and his passion! I’m so glad Your memories live in Your heart, still! Amazing the things we remember after our fathers pass.

    My Dad’s birthday is tomorrow. He would have been 90. So, do You remember Your Dad’s stories of when he was young and growing up? I have such a wonderful memory of the last time I saw Dad “A Special Time with Him” on my blog. I just have to play The Old Rugged Cross on the piano. Thanks so much for sharing this and bringing Your memories of Your Dad to us! So Beautiful and touching.
    Chuck

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    1. Thank you so much Chuck. Your father sounds like a wonderful Dad. My Dad was detached to a good extent after my mother died when I was eight , I spent a good deal of time withy Grandparents and will be eternally grateful
      For their love and attention and sacrifices. I’m glad you enjoyed this poem, I will be over to read your poem about your father.

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  3. This was so multi-dimensional, Holly. Sadly memorable yet joyous in celebrating grapes, nature and your Dad’s life.
    I am sorry you don’t have him, Holly. I miss my Dad so much. . . ❤ 🌈

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