The grape arbor is beginning to fill out nicely, creating a canopy of green that expands and deepens every day. After the Great Jelly Fiasco, at Ansel, in '91, I promised my younger son I would never make jelly again. It was scarring. The grapes had been picked, some were still being strained, glass jars were boiling and jelly bubbling. Then, the phone rang. It was the tipping point that took us right into harrowing. I thought I could handle multi-tasking with the phone on one shoulder, but the kitchen soon turned into a disaster scene. Triage became necessary. Sometime that evening, jelly did get into the jars, the jars were sealed and, eventually, we enjoyed the fruits of our labor.
Time heals all wounds and I'm planning to make another attempt at the mountain. This time, along with the jelly, I'm threatening to make wine, which might be a better and more fun alternative. We shall see.