We have a grapevine in our backyard. It was planted in front of our chimney and trained to grow up onto a trellis (at the level of the eaves) that extends across the entire width of our house, including the patio. The idea was to have a country-rustic, sort of Greco-Italian grape arbor to go with our tile roof, which would shade the patio and southwest side of the house and provide us with some grapes to enjoy during the summer.
The plant, being a grape (whose 4-letter equivalent is “weed”) had its own ideas. Each year it puts out shoots in all directions. By midsummer, the patio begins to look very Old World, and there’s a shaggy green curtain hanging from the trellis to the ground in front of our bedroom and living room windows. Only relentless pruning keeps the vine off the roof and the solar panels, and at each end of the trellis its thwarted vigor simply takes off as it heads for the fences and both neighbors’ yards. More cutting is required, which is more easily accomplished since it involves no ladder (keep this point in mind!).
And, yes, we’ve also enjoyed the grapes. Grapes by the bushel. Two summers ago we had so many grapes that it seemed like half of them fermented on the vine. The backyard smelled like a winery; drunken butterflies wobbled through the patio, and I’d swear that Remy and his clan had re-established their rat-bistro somewhere amid all the vine’s greenery. Last summer we thinned the early clusters by half and still had more grapes than we could eat. We gave them away—from a safe distance; I made grape jam. We threw away grapes as they fermented and still had drunken butterflies and rats. And the vine continued to grow, to cover an extension that Ed had just added to our patio.
Grapevine maintenance is theoretically simple. It goes dormant in winter, and each year you cut it back before the new growth starts. Because our grapevine grows at roof-edge level, this annual job requires a ladder. Last winter we decided that we’d both outgrown (i.e. aged out of) ladders, and a handyman did it. This year, because of COVID and full hospitals, he’s also sworn off ladders. So, there we were, and there was the grapevine, and I believe the thing was leering at me.
By late January I’d had enough. Out came our A-frame ladder. I figured it would be perfectly stable on the concrete floor of the patio. With my height and long arms, I wouldn’t have to go more than a couple of steps up. That said, I wasn’t really sure how far I’d get, but I wanted to do it. The vine had dared me. To keep the job from seeming too overwhelming, I mentally divided the vine into sectors. And up I went. Each day I pruned one sector, moving the ladder a foot or so as needed to provide easier reach. By the time I’d finished the patio, I was comfortable on the third or fourth step of the ladder—although my head stuck up through the spaces in the trellis, leading to occasional discomforting thoughts about not hanging myself, but all went well. When the ladder moved onto dirt, a little adjustment and determined wiggling ensured that it remained stable. I finished the last sector a week after I’d begun.
What else can I tell you? The grapevine job is done, though my satisfaction mostly centers on the simple discovery that I could do it. Seems like I ought to be able to deal with some other stuff too. As we all move forward somehow in the fight against COVID, Climate Change, and other things, that’s something to keep in mind.
- Helen Maurer