Write four lines of prose about: belonging.
It's going to be a bit of a different market than usual tomorrow. Since we only managed to scrounge five pints of blackberries out of our bushes, and because we're pretty much past the soft fruit time of the year, there was a whole lot of space to be filled in our cooler.
So I decided, for the first time in more than two years, to bring some carrots to the market. Last year we just didn't have enough growing on top of what the boxes and restaurant were taking and up until this point this year we just haven't had the space, both in the cooler and on the truck.
Kind of looking forward to seeing how well they sell.
Other than that, for the September long weekend market I'll be bringing lots of corn, way too many tomatoes, a big load of Gala apples, onions, leeks, potatoes, garlic, and... I'm forgetting something. I have no idea what it is at the moment.
Whatever. Should be a good one, as the forecast is sounding pretty ideal.
The air is different here, I can feel the subtleties in the scents as they enter my nostrils and the freshness as it fills my lungs. I would know this place if I were blindfolded and my ears deafened. It is like no other place on this planet.
This is not just my home... it is where I belong.