Chapter 1: The Golden Postcard
Ashes: First, it's important to note that Bo hardly ever gets her mail out of the mailbox- so the fact that she actually picked it up is a feat in itself.
Bo: True. I was going through my mail and as usual it went something like this . . .
Bo was just about to put the pile of mail aside until payday, when a small postcard slid out of the pile and caught her eye.
Under closer examination she saw. . .
Could it be?
No, it was impossible, and yet. . .
Under closer examination she saw. . .
Could it be?
No, it was impossible, and yet. . .
Suddenly the sun came out, birds began to sing, and angels sang in harmony with them- for there was not just bills in the mail today. No, today there was a postcard from Country Moon!
WARNING FLASHBACK AHEAD!
Bo remembered all the fun and joyous times she had in years past picking grapes and assisting in the creation of sweet red wine at this quaint family oriented Noblesville winery.
FUN!
JOYOUS!
PICKING GRAPES!
WINE CREATION!
Bo then had a mission.
A mission to find a grape picking accomplice.
She went to Chicken, but sadly she had to work.
She called Lishes, but then she remembered that she lives in Ohio.
So then Bo called Miss D, but she was going on mini vacation.
And after double checking that Bo could not bring Rosie because dogs weren't allowed on the premises- she called Ashes.
Ashes: Yeah, you went with your silver medal. . .Me!
Chapter 2: The Smell of Success
Upon arriving, the fresh scent of manure stung our nostrils. It was a beautifully overcast morning- which meant hopefully no sunburns!
We were greeted by the friendly owner of the winery and were equipped with gloves, clippers, and tubs (to fill with grapes).
Then we were assigned to Crescent 5 because we were going to be picking grapes for their white wine.
We picked, and we talked, and we picked.
Bo: It went a little like this:
pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
clip-clip-clip, talk a lot, pick a little more.
pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
clip-clip-clip, talk a lot, pick a little more.
Ashes: Uh?
Bo: Sorry, I just had to get a little Broadway in here.
After about 2 hours of picking, we stopped for a lunch of home-made chili and pink lemonade.
We ate our lunch on the porch of the most gorgeous log cabin you've ever seen, and enjoyed a nice conversation with the winery owner. Everyone there treated you like family!
Chapter 3: The Grapes of Wrath
Ashes: After resting and refueling at the log cabin, we set out for another round of grape picking.
Bo: You mean, we set out to: pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, clip-clip-clip, talk a lot, pick a little more.
Ashes: Enough of Broadway Bo! Let's get back to the story. Any way, after receiving new empty tubs from an adorable pint sized helper, we found our pink marker ribbon and began to finish the row we had started before lunch.
It was around this time, when we had just started up again, that we saw some young chit-lins trying to stalk us through the grape vines. They were holding large grape leaves in front of their faces and pretending to be camouflaged or invisible. Possibly both.
The teacher in Bo said to foster the creativity in them.
Bo: Do you hear that Ashes?
Ashes: I heard something but I don't see anything.
Bo: I think there might be invisible grape alligators about.
The children, pleased that they had successfully "hidden" from us, trotted away giggling merrily. Then Ashes and Bo smiled at each other thinking those kids were SO adorable.
And then they came back.
They started with the same gimmick. "Hiding" in the grape vines, taunting us with their laughter, but this time their giggling was followed by the sound of grapes being pulled off the vine.
Without having time react, Ashes felt a stinging sensation on her back. 'Was that a grape or a bee,' Ashes thought. But no, those kids were too sweet.
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
Then with three more shots to her head, Ashes realized she WAS being pelted by grapes by those formally sweet and adorable children. She also knew how Lincoln must have felt.
The hits just kept on coming and Ashes' patience was wearing thin; grape-by-grape.
Just when things had reacted their worst and Ashes had snapped, a shrill mother's voice stopped the assault.
"Go tell them at the barn we need a grape pick up!"
The children ceased their assalt and scurried off to comply with mother's demands.
And the kids scurried off, Ashes turned with a feral look in her eye and picked up a handful of grapes.
'Those bast***s are mine!' Ashes thought.
Ashes gripped the handful of grapes in her fist, juice running down her arm. She had her targets in sight and a shoot to kill order in her heart. Then she thought to herself, 'wait, weren't their parents in the same row as us?'
Ashes cringed and slowly turned around to see the parents staring in her general direction. So she slowly released the grapes, one finger at a time. Only one thought kept her going, 'I'll get those bast***s next time.'
Chapter 4: White Wine in Blue Bottles
Before leaving we were given a bottle of red and white wine from last year's grape harvest.
With no one injured or fatally maimed, we deemed it a successful white grape harvest.
Bo was even able to help with the weighing and de-stemming of the grapes.
Bo was even able to help with the weighing and de-stemming of the grapes.
We left bottles of wine in tow and scent of manure again stinging our nostrils. Looking forward to returning in October for an exciting bonfire and wine tasting.
Ashes: And a chance for revenge.
