Two months ago we moved into a new (very old) house. The backyard, along with everything else, spoke neglect. But I loved the ornate brick wall, the long stretch of grass for kids to run on, the winding perimeter of a garden. It was a weedy garden but I hoped to reclaim it – turn it into something colorful, maybe even fruitful.
The shock on her face was visible. My oldest daughter (age 5) burst into the kitchen shouting her discovery. “Mom! We have a grape tree in our backyard!” I looked at the delicate bounty dangling from her fingers and sure enough, it was a cluster of perfectly round concord grapes. Her twin sisters, hot on her heels, bounded up the stairs to thrust their own prize under my nose. I stopped swiping food from the boys’ high chairs and followed them outside to our unruly backyard.
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