Write four lines of prose, the first of which begins with: The night before...
Got a lot of weeding done in the strawberries this morning. Hung out with Max at the start of the afternoon, helped Kat sort tomato plants for tomorrow's farmers market late afternoon. Packed the truck and picked rhubarb for the market after dinner.
And now... I sleep.
But before I nod off, allow me a moment to say: Happy birthday Mom! Hope you had a fantastic day. Thank you for all that you've done for all of us.
The night before the first farmers market of the year is a swirling, chaotic combination of emotions. There is excitement, of course. But there is also anxiety (am I forgetting something?), anticipation, anxiety (am I forgetting something important?),worry/curiosity (how much of what we're bringing will we sell?), and resignation (okay, I'm definitely forgetting something but I am choosing to be okay with that, all right?).
And then there's the feeling you get when you're looking for your third and final market table in order to load it onto the truck and you see your market tent (provider of shade, among other duties) and you think, "Oh yeah... I should probably bring that too."