Four lines of prose about: purpose.
Not a lot of harvesting to do this morning, as we're bringing mostly apples and squash to the market tomorrow. We did manage to get some potatoes, a few pints of cherry tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and a handful of corn. Pretty much every night now comes with the threat of frost, so I'd be surprised if we have any of that stuff still around for next week.
Third to last market of the year, here we come!
"This kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?" I ask Nick in a tone weaker than I intended.
"That depends," he replies as he pauses in his work, "on what exactly you think the purpose is."
"It's a charity event," I mumble while staring at my shoe tops, "so the money is meant for the needy."
"I'm so glad you agree," Nick says with a wide smile as he returns to stuffing the money in his backpack, "because I really need to pay off my credit card bills."