Last of the summer grapes

"I'm jilting you this morning habibti" says hubby as he placed a bowl of freshly cut grapes on the kitchen table and left me alone with my breakfast and a head full of unsavoury thoughts. "Those Israelis are going to cut off water and electricity to the Palestinian people of Gaza …. how did it come to this?" says me forlornly.

"Stupidity International Incorporated" …. replies hubby … "on all levels" as he grabbed a tray and left for the front garden to pick the last fruits of the summer vine, before the rot attacked the lot.

Rot … that insidious side of nature that snakes its way around the vine, unseen; until the end result lands with a splash on my clean stone pathway and makes a nasty little mess.

It never ceases to amaze me how life replicates nature in this part of the world… and just as the sun rises to beat back the darkness … so too does human nature of the simplest kind.

"Good morning Mama" said son as he bounded in and joyfully planted a kiss on my cheek; a timely reminder of that which is good in this life ... J