Actually, these aren’t real grapes. They just look like them — upright clusters of tiny grapes, usually in shades of blue or purple, sometimes white, depending upon their particular variety. Blue hyacinths line the edges of my front entrance beds on both sides of the driveway. They offer a delightful contrast to the yellow and white tulips currently taking the place of earlier crocuses.
The genus Muscari derives from the Greek word for musk, a perfume fixative used for its persistently heavy scent. If we play with this Greek derivative, we discover Muscadine (c. 1785), a Southern grape with small clusters that smell like musk.
My father’s Scuppernong grapes, a great favorite in the South, were a muscadine variety. Yes, he did produce a sweet homemade wine.
Muscat (c. 1548) is any of several cultivated grapes used for making wines and raisins.
Muscat Canelli is one of my favorite white wines that have become rather hard to find, even before the Pandemic.
Muscatel, from Old French muscadel and Middle English muskadell, is both a sweet fortified wine and a variety of raisin.
Getting a bit dizzy over all these varietals? We’ve wandered too far from the hyacinth bulb genus, muscari. The particular variety in my garden is the Muscari armeniacrum, among the more common found home gardens. They tend to spread and, if allowed free reign, will naturalize in other areas, even the lawn. Some are taking over the path to the front gate arbor. After they finish their bloom and begin to go dormant in late summer, I’ll dig those up and transplant them back into the edging, three inches deep.
