They call them sea grapes because they grow undaunted by the proximity of saltwater and the fruit look and behave just like regular grapes. They start out green and hard and grow in clusters like wine grapes.
By this time of year they are starting to ripen and turn a delicious purpose color. Which is what alerts the birds to their desirability so by now it's a race between me and the mourning doves on my street to see who gets to eat the grapes. I lose, year after year.
The grapes taste somewhat like regular grapes but they have a huge pit in the middle so the meat is rather less than at first appears. I have fond memories of being a child and sitting under the vines and gorging myself on grapes, so I like to stand around and pick a few of these when I find a few ripe grapes.
I was so absorbed in my photography this well oiled tricycle drifted up on me without my noticing. I spun round to say hi and he looked straight through me. A man on a mission.
We watched him go and I was half tempted to yell out that he was missing a delicious fruit but, I fear sea grapes would be wasted on a tricycle rider who goes out in public with white socks pulled neatly up to his knees. We continued our feast alone, Cheyenne and I.
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