ever since we spent the fall of 2012 in the vineyards of the languedoc, i have had a fatal weakness for the curlicue tendrils of grape vines. in french they are called “vrilles.” oh, mah-ree zho, she loves the vrilles, i heard constantly, as i shouldered aside grape pickers who were just trying to get a day’s work done, so that i could capture yet another perfect spiral, or perfectly imperfect spiral, through my lens. we have wild grapes here in minnesota, and the love is still strong. i mean. just look. what’s not to love?

wild grape vine tendril

saint paul, minnesota