I heard it through the grapevine

Today I went on a bike ride. (I bought a bike off Craigslist a few weeks ago, it's kind of a road bike and I'm really enjoying it.) It was on the shelter belt where I rode past a lot of people's backyards. There was this one house that had a grapevine growing over the back fence. As I rode past I caught a whiff of sweet grapes that instantly sent me into nostalgia. Growing up, my neighbors, the Jeppsons, had a grapevine in their garden. I realize now that we got a lot of use out of it. It was fun to crawl under and play there or use as a great hiding place for hide and go seek, one of the many games I played with Kira and the Welsches. The leaves made cool shade on a hot summer's day. When the grapes were ripe, the Jeppsons made homemade grape juice. It was a day or so long process and the air was deliciously perfumed with grapes again as they boiled (or cooked?) the fruit to make the juice. The aroma was always welcome on a crisp fall day. Later, after the leaves fell off the vine, we'd collect the vines and we made a bird's nest of sorts. There were lots of vines and we'd group them together in a big circle. I also seem to remember making up games, there was one where we were a group of siblings who had to escape something bad and then ended up floating to a hidden island in the middle of the ocean. (Castaway might have been big at the time). After we got a good use out of the vines, Kira's dad would make a fire out of them in the garden, and we'd all come over for a weenie roast. Cooking hot dogs and making s'mores over a fire built from vines, telling jokes and stores to entertain each other into the night. I loved this tradition. So, as I rode past the grapevine I caught the scent of memories. And immediately started jonesin for a weenie roast.