Welcome to June! Write a four line poem about: the cook.
So we sold out of strawberries around 10 o'clock this morning. The market, as a reminder, opens at 8:30 and goes until 1. I'm already looking forward to the abundance we'll have to sell next weekend, while also wondering just how many pints we'd need to have in order to not sell them all by closing time.
On top of the fast-moving strawberries we also sold a lot more bedding plants than I'd been expecting. So overall it was probably one of our best markets ever.
She presents dessert,
Expecting her praises to be sung.
But I remain mute,
For her parfait has dissolved my tongue.