Four lines of prose about: the compass.
The forecast for tomorrow is not that great, so business is likely to be down. But hey, they were calling for rain today and it was a lovely, hardly a cloud in the sky morning while we picked for the market.
If that's the kind of rain they're calling for tomorrow, sign me up.
"Are you sure we're heading north?"
"That's what the compass says."
"Then why are we heading towards the sun?"
"... maybe the compass had a bit too much to drink last night?"