Saturday September 6th, 2014

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: peaches.

We brought 17 crates of peaches to the market this morning. We brought home 4.

No, not crates. Peaches.

Pretty ridiculous, especially considering it was the first market after the final long weekend of summer. We also sold out of berries, corn, cherry tomatoes, and McIntosh apples. We came back with a few crates of Gala apples, but a good chunk of those will be going into the boxes on Tuesday.

Kat's mom drove up to help keep Max entertained for most of the morning. It worked out perfectly - they had a great time exploring the market and we were able to run the stall together, without distraction.

Other than, you know, every now and then wondering where our son was.


Millions of peaches,
Peaches for me.
Millions of peach- wait.
Where'd they all go?


Greg said...

That sounds like an excellent market! I guess that these are helping making up for the cutworm incident earlier in the year? And 4 peaches left out of 17 crates... I guess that's one each for the drive home?
Heh, I think your poem is perfect for the occasion!

It's called the Queen of Peaches,
And it's filled with big black leeches,
But the tiny flesh about its stone,
Reminds the eater of their home.

Anonymous said...

The soft, baby fine fur tingles my nose
As I lift the fruit to inhale its sweet scent.
Who could ever guess the intoxication, the euphoria
That can arise from something as simple as a peach?

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, I'd have forgotten about those cutworms if I wasn't reminded of them pretty much every time I look around our garden and notice what has and hasn't been planted in their usual number.

That... does not sound like a peach I would be interested in eating.

Ivybennet - lovely. A moment beautifully captured.