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.