The grape is ripe for the harvest

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O splendor that this pulpit draped in blue silk and embroidered with woody tendrils! Under a frame of green leaves, a coulis of grape seeds oozes. Succulent blues and endless oceans of light and shade, this bunch is costumed for the big harvest day. This Mediterranean or celestial color of the grape, this shade that even jealous Apollo and Jupiter, leads to contemplation, silence ... A real initiation to travel on lands drunk with astral experiences. The monstrances of the great vintages, seeds of grapes, however think of this day when they will leave the sacred sanctuary of the Bordeaux hillsides to languish in the darkness of the annoying vats.

And yes, you do not see it, but under this proud appearance of emperor of the kingdom of Bordeaux, this grape wanders while thinking of the terrible fate which will soon hit its sunny lands: the time of harvest, autumn farewells. The vines are tormented at the idea of losing their necklace of bluish pearls, true jewels of the country. They camouflage themselves under the shroud of green leaves to mourn in intimacy this next kidnapping. Certain pearls of nectar try to camouflage themselves under leafy curtains or to unhook the wire which retains them from the world of the living to slip under the brownish duvet of the earth.

However, these frightened and certainly capricious bunches by being treated like a princess by their neighboring and international admirers, forget that on this canvas the winegrowers will never catch them. They are now in the realm of untouchables, immortals. They can easily sit on the walls, frozen forever in their best September clothes. A divine blue moment captured for eternity. What could be better, when one is a Bordeaux grape, than the admiration of drunken spectators of colors, scents and roundness!

This canvas is not only an ode to the land of vintage wines due to the beauty of this invigorating and fleshy bunch, but also a Rimbaldian symphony of shimmering sensations of life, sunny breath, ocean contemplation ...

The grape is ripe for the harvest
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LocationPuisseguin en Gironde (France)
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