Daddy said some precious word to me the other day. He said, “The Scuppernongs are ready.” He has a couple of vines on one of those trellises made of iron pipe and fencing. We can walk under it when we are picking the Scuppernongs and pick the ones we can reach through the large squares of the fencing. The smell of them is relaxing and nostalgic to me. This weekend, if I don’t do anything else, I want to go and pick my share and make some jelly. I can taste the Scuppernongs and the jelly now.

Since those are ready, that means the local Muscadine’s are also ready. They have a little different flavor, and grow in the edge of the woods around here. I’ll be scouting to see where the bearing vines are around here this weekend, also. I like to make jelly and syrup from these. When we pick anything wild, whether it is these wild grapes, or dewberries, it brings back precious memories from childhood. It’s such a great time to have conversation about memories or catching up on family news and such. Sometimes my brother and his wife are also there at the same time and we all pick the Scuppernongs and then divide them. I’m looking forward to having some fresh homemade jelly to put on my biscuits and toast.

We were first introduced to Possum Grapes when we were young and Daddy showed us a healthy vine just over the fence in the edge of the woods. I had never heard of such, and was fascinated at the thought of possums really hanging upside down on the vine eating a bunch of the small wild grapes. That’s still what I see when I think of them or see them. These grapes are about the size of blueberries, and hang in bunches not quite as tight as cultivated grapes. They are really great, and the juice tastes just like a well-known grape juice. I’m thankful for the fruits I was taught that I can glean from nature, and for the memories attached.

I’ve done my best, along with my husband and our families, to pass this knowledge and nostalgia on to our children. Precious words; priceless treasures.

Have a blessed weekend, friends.