Friday October 24th, 2014

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose that have something to do with: orange.

Did some yard work this morning with Kat and Max, cleaning up our garden boxes, pulling out dead sunflowers and weeds, and collecting all the walnuts that were felled by the recent winds. This afternoon I finally harvested the remainder of our carrots and put them into winter storage. Not as much as previous years, but there were more than I was expecting.

Tomorrow we're heading up to Penticton for the year-end farmers market party. If we actually make it this will be the first one we've been able to attend, since in previous years we've usually gone visiting friends or family at this point.

Kat hasn't been feeling too well the last couple of days though, so we'll see how things go.


Dirt clings to the carrot, as though the earth is reluctant to let go of this orange treasure. I give it a hard shake and most of it comes free, but not quite all. Shrugging slightly, I put it down on the ground beside me and reach for another fountain of green erupting from our garden.

By the time I look down again - merely a handful of seconds later - I find that the damned rabbit has managed to steal another carrot from me.


Greg said...

Do you sell the walnuts or keep them for yourselves? I don't remember you mentioning walnuts for the market before, and I think you've finished attending it now as well. Still, sounds like a very productive day's work, and let's face it, carrots are very hard things to have too many of! I hope Kat is feeling well soon though, and that you don't miss the party!
Your narrator appears to be up against that wascally wabbit himself, Bugs Bunny! I'm pretty certain that he's not going to come out of this with any carrots left at all!

"These orange bananas," said Cliff, putting them out on the shelves, "they're a bit... crunchy, aren't they?"
Mr. Gibbons, the greengrocer, grunted disinterestedly, and then heaved a rattling box, marked 'grapes,' from the van.
"And, well, they kind of taste like carrots too," said Cliff, who'd spent half an hour trying to eat one for breakfast. "It like... well, it's like the brioche we sell that kind of tastes like a painted sponge...."

Anonymous said...

In the captain’s mouth was the last bit of fruit on the bloody ship. All of us watched as he tore the small slices from the whole, placing each juicy morsel into his mouth, closing his teeth upon it with a satisfying squish. I licked my swollen, bleeding gums, trying desperately amidst the sweltering Caribbean sun to remember the cool citrus taste on my tongue.
The mutiny happened a short while after.

Marc said...

Greg - we've sold some to the bakery in previous years, but they tend to be ready too late for selling at the market. So we mostly process and freeze them for ourselves.

Hmm, I do not think I would want to shop at that particular grocery store...

Ivybennet - yeah, that probably was not the best strategy for the dear old captain to go with. Perhaps next time, if there is one, he'll do that in the privacy of his own cabin :P