By Their Fruits

I might have missed a photo opportunity, but it's alright. Two of my children had accompanied me, only half-heartedly complaining, to my mother's house to help her discard a heavy, old treadmill. We had to lug it up the stairs from the basement and out to the curb. I didn't weigh the machine, but it was heavy enough that I had my 13 and 16 year old children with me. When we got to the basement door we discovered the hardest part of the move. We had make a tricky maneuver to properly align the treadmill and then we swung it through the door opening in one motion. Then we lifted the beast up the stairs. I then dragged it to the curb and thought that was the end of our visit.

As we made our way to the car I glanced at my mother's garden and asked her where the arugula was - I like the peppery flavor and eating it right in the garden is better than with a complete salad. She had planted it farther to the west and away from the car so we strolled toward the backyard until we found the arugula. While sampling several leaves, our conversation ran through several vegetables and her fruit trees until we wound up talking about her grapes vines. Mom is really happy about her Concords but she doesn't expect much of a harvest from the seedless green grapes this year around; too much pruning last year.

I asked the kids if they wanted to see how the grapes were coming along. I was a little surprised when they said yes instead of whining to go home. As we made our way back to the grapes I saw that my mom had made a makeshift bench underneath the canopy that had been formed by the crossing grape vines as they grew along the trellis. It's not particularly pretty to look at and the wood is old and weathered, but it served its purpose and gave the four of us a great place to sit in the shade on a hot summer night.

There were several moments when I just paused and soaked in the moment. There was my mom with two of her grandchildren, sitting underneath this more than 60-year-old  grape plant. The very real connection of the enduring vine with all of the fruit that it produces provided a direct metaphor to the wonderful and fruitful life of my mother. Her fruit is in no way limited to raising 14 children and the tremendous fruit that my siblings have born in their lives. It seems that there is truth that "by their fruits ye shall know them," and I witnessed one of those strong primary roots sitting with my children; her mere presence and stories creating a vision of the possible.

When it was time to go, I hadn't thought to take a picture, but we didn't leave before picking and eating several handfuls of raspberries.