A July storm passes through the vineyard. In its wake, the first silent signs of ripening appear.
Véraison
the white heat of July slowly brewed an ink-stained sky
a grey mesh blankets the vines upon trellises
while a deafening thunderclap
shakes the ground beneath,
lingering in its fury—
after the thunder’s last murmur
come torrents of rain—
wet pedicels swell,
strain under heavy-laden clusters,
bark and cordon turn ebony
under the storm’s shadow—
the camouflage fractures after the rain,
side-swept leaves expose hidden clusters:
amethyst beads
among the celadon pearls.
—Deirdra Vachal © 2026
Image by Olivier Lemoine (https://Photo-Terroir.fr), CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
lilies, sparrows and grass 
Stirring…I feel the vineyard’s energy awakening in this thoughtful prose, Dee! 💚🍃 🍇
Thank you so much, Susan. I think yesterday’s storms found their way into both our writing. 😊 I’m so glad the vineyard’s quiet awakening spoke to you. Thank you for your encouraging words. 💜🌿🍇