Or: “If I blink once, this container will suddenly be full of healthy grapes.”
Some might say that a careful manual harvest takes way too long. Cutting out any mould, any unripe berries, that kind of stuff. It certainly exercises your gluts, squatting in front of bucket and vine. The sound of a house-tall harvesting machine rushing past us, as we clean out one bunch of grapes: it might increase the uneasy feeling of having dropped out of modern world timing. The harvesting machine looks as it is about to suck in a hectar a minute, – the fancy terms written on its side (“selective process on board”) feel like a finger in our direction, ridiculing the muck on our gloved fingers, in fact, on our everything, from face to toes.
No better way to escape that feeling than starting a caption competition of Marzipan (or ‘parrot No 1’) thought when he inspected the empty grape container in the morning. After all, he headlined our harvest last year, and if Erbse grabbed that headline this year, then Marzipan deserves his very own blog post.
Then again, he could have been thinking back at posing on a full harvesting container last year. “No, not again!”, his eyes could have said.
More suggestions welcome.