Inktober Day 25.
I am reminded today that my knees are not what they used to be. Climbing stairs and hiking through sand yesterday has me hobbling pretty good today. But I will endeavor to persevere.
This scene is from yesterday and shows that sometimes a watercolor is better than an ink drawing. The yellow wild grape vines against the burnt sienna snow fence can’t really be shown effectively with ink. Be that as it may, this will suffice until I can paint it, which will be very soon, I think.
My wild grape story: When we were kids, these wild grapes grew in abundance in the dunes. We would pick a big batch and take them to my Grandmother Robinson, who would boil them down and use her extensive culinary skills to turn the bitter, tiny grapes into delicious grape juice. Welch’s got nothing on my Granny!
I raise a glass of grape juice to y’all!