Tell us about: the machine.
After a morning trip to Penticton for an appointment and other baby stuff, I managed to get the rest of our garlic planted this afternoon. Still have to toss some mulch over them to keep them safe and warm over the winter, but the most tedious aspect of the process is done now.
Tomorrow's preparations for the market will mostly involve organizing things and packing the truck, as I'm pretty sure that all that I'm harvesting are a few leeks.
I like that Fridays at this time of year get progressively easier.
It sits in the corner, unknown and unused. Once it was beloved - very nearly worshiped, if there is any interest in the truth. Those days are lost in the mists of memory now.
Dust coats its surface, transforming its glossy black to an aging grey. Strange to think it had so much life once, such strength and magnetism. It commanded respect and attention. Any and all competition was not merely conquered, but utterly destroyed.
Perhaps it will return to power one day, as unexpectedly as it was once usurped. Doesn't seem very likely, I must admit. But who am I to predict the future? Who can say what tomorrow might bring?
A strange twist of fate, a change in the tastes of a fickle but influential few... that's all it could take. Never say never, as they used to say.
We know better than to say such things now.