Such Promising Beginnings

With thanks to Willie for his invaluable critique, this is the revised version Feb 2008 Such Promising Beginnings They hung in fat clusters, green globes that glistened when it rained and filled my mouth with a reservoir of want. I watched them grow, my pride out of proportion to my part in it all, for the back wall had been covered by the tempting beauties from the day I bought the house. My house, my fruit, my pride. I fussed around them, checking for mould or fruit flies, having no idea what either looked like, but even my naivety could not stem an inordinate sense of self-satisfaction in their healthy growth. Rain arrived punctually, as if ordered by me; sunshine, switched on by another's hand, lovingly kissed each grape. I gathered the bottles, read wine-making manuals voraciously, envisaged the celebratory party. My guests, my wine, my pride. Alas, the grapes were fool's gold, an ornamental variety I had not known existed, Or perhaps had forgotten in my excitement. I had also forgotten -- pride comes before a fall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ original version below They hung in fat clusters, huge green globes that glistened when it rained and filled every mouth with a reservoir of want. I watched them grow, my pride out of all proportion to my part in it all, for the back wall had been covered by their glory from the day I bought the house. “My house, my fruit, my pride” I fussed around them, checking for mould or fruit flies, having no idea what either looked like, but even ignorance could not stem my inordinate sense of self-satisfaction at their healthy growth. Rain arrived as if ordered by me, and delivered by a punctilious pizza boy. Sunshine, switched on by another's hand, lovingly kissed each grape -- obviously at my command. I gathered the bottles -- size and colour unimportant -- read wine-making manuals voraciously, envisaged the celebratory party where gallons of the sweetest nectar would flow with Bacchanalian frivolity. Ah those days were heady, I recall. Alas, the grapes were fool's gold, an ornamental variety I had not known existed. Or if I had, it was a small detail long since forgotten. I had also forgotten -- pride comes before a fall.