Friday August 22nd, 2014

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: little helpers.

We had a lot of rain overnight but at least it held off once morning arrived. Our harvest was delayed slightly while we waited for things to dry off a little but once we got going we had a lot of help: my parents, our visitors, even Max was out there... sorta helping.

All that needed harvesting was harvested in the end, so we'll be heading up to Penticton in the morning with a full truck, as usual at this time of year. It'll be me and the family this time, as my parents are heading straight home from here and then our visitors will come up a bit later for a visit (and to hopefully keep Max entertained for us for a short while).

And then they will continue on their way to Vancouver and onwards to the remainder of their vacation destinations.

And then... it'll be just Kat, myself, and Max around the house. For the foreseeable future, even.

How strange.


Tiny pudgy fingers grip tools so tightly. Wriggly little bodies squirm and twist and turn until they reach their desired destination. Clang, bang, drill, and screw, those busy worker bees are buzzing.

Toddlers really do make the best aircraft engine mechanics.


Greg said...

With the possible exception of Max that sounds like it must have been one of the easier harvests you've done, with so many helpers! I imagine it's quite nice to be out there all working together and seeing the fruits (pun intended) of your labours accumulating :) Still, it does sound like the place might feel a little bit lonely for a day or so when everyone's gone.
I completely agree with the last line of your prose today. They also make good chimney sweeps, loom operators and coal-miners :)

Little helpers
Miss Frimpton sighed as she looked at the kitchen floor. Everyone knew that if you left a cookie and a saucer of milk out before you went to bed the brownies would turn up and do the housework for you – little helpers busily sweeping the floor and churning the milk in return for food and drink. However, no-one had ever mentioned, at least in her hearing, that cats and brownies might not mix. The kitchen floor was carnage; dead, headless brownies everywhere and two sleeping, fat, contented-looking cats.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, it's certainly a nice feeling to have a large crew working with us. It's too bad we don't have that on a more regular basis, really.

Hah, I thought you might agree.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... that did not work out as Miss Frimpton planned at all!

Unless it did...