Morning under the gazebo began with a roll call no louder than a leaf. Each grape said hello to the nearest tendril, then waited for the sun to nod before growing rounder by exactly one drop.
We asked at the kiosk by the path. "I sat down with a bun," said a woman with jam on her thumb. "The berry nearest my hat greeted the vine first. I felt I should greet my bun as well."
The park keeper pinned a note to the trellis: visitors may watch, but please do not tap the class. Tomorrow they will try for another drop, and the sun has already promised to nod on time.