Wild grapes, Bell Cedar meadow

I apparently have a very sensitive nose, and while I don't think I could parlay the ability to discern minute differences in aromas into a career—the idea of becoming a bomb-sniffing human lacks a certain appeal—this minor talent does serve me well at this time of year. Despite the persistent drought, the wild grapes are beginning to ripen. Most of them are hidden from view, but their scent is, to me at least, powerful, even overwhelming. I've been sniffing the air since the beginning of the month in an effort to detect the first ripe clusters, and on a walk today through the meadow of the Bell Cedar Swamp refuge, I "nosed" harvest-ready fruit. In short order, I followed the heady aroma to its source. This year, however, is going to be a modest one, at best, for grapes, so I may just savor their perfume, photograph the clusters as they go from green to purple, and leave the fruit for the wildlife. We have more than enough grape jelly in the basement storage cupboards.