Nancy Harries’

grapes

It wasn’t that she was a drunk. True she was the only woman who took a flask to church. At least she didn’t ask to borrow nobody’s. In June it was dandelion wine, sometimes with her own honey and sometimes with store bought sugar. Even with sorghum once. Awful stuff.

In August it was elderberry. You could tell from her purple hands. September was mead and October was concord and catawba wines. In November she had the copper for some brandy and even occasional mash but the weather often was too cold to ferment right.

But three months of winter got her listless and sad seeming. People said it wasn’t until the April grape hyacinths that she perked up. Just the word grape. Even though sometimes Mr. Harries had to fill her flask from town, the sweet grape scent of those big blue irises in June kept her spirits up until the next dandelion summer.