Four lines of prose about: expectations.
Pretty easy harvest this morning, as I only grabbed a couple of crates of potatoes out of the garden. Everything else - apples, squash, even a few peppers - were already ready and waiting to go into the back of the truck. Well, perhaps 'ready' is too strong a word, as it took a lot of rearranging and convincing to get it all in there.
Anyway, the truck is crammed full of goodies. Hopefully we don't have to bring very much of it back after the market.
Oh! Almost forgot. Kat and I found out late this afternoon that we'll both be working at the polls on election day. Quite pleased about that.
"You look disappointed."
I look up from the classified ad at the back of the local paper and stare at the apartment it's meant to represent. I guess there is a mountain view, if you count the crayon drawing of the Alps (I'm being generous - it could just as easily be a teepee or a seagull) taped to the window.
"Well, I guess when I read fireplace I wasn't expecting to find a barrel fire in the living room."