Write about: the disappearance.
I've actually used this prompt twice before, but it's been over four years since the last time so I felt it was fair game to bring it around again.
This morning I finished tilling the remainder of our paths in the garden, which is a pretty great feeling (other than the feeling of my hand cramping up if I lift anything heavy - I barely got through the dishes tonight thanks to our cast iron pan). Then I did some hand weeding around our pepper plants, onions, and leeks.
It's almost like we're on top of things out there.
The 'no picking strawberries' thing suffered a close call though. While I was working Kat and Max were showing Rebecca around the farm. I was having a water break when Max made a break for the raspberry canes. I kept an eye on him from a distance and he came back out pretty quickly... and then headed for the strawberries.
"Where you going?" I asked.
"I'm going to pick strawberries and then eat them," he replied. "You want to pick some strawberries with me?"
I was strong and said no. He didn't care. He was off to eat strawberries.
I actually had other things I wanted to mention as well but this is getting long enough. I do need to use space for one last thing before I get to the prompt though: happy birthday Dad!
"I know I left them around here somewhere," Gary's father muttered as he passed through the living room for the ninth (or was it tenth?) time.
"I'm sure you did, Dad." Gary sipped from his glass as he watched his old man shuffle by.
"Help me find them, then!"
"That wouldn't do you any good," Gary said, giving his now empty glass a shake and a stern look. "If you rely on me finding things your brain will go to mush even faster."
"Well we're not getting out of here until I find my keys!" The shout came from down the hall somewhere - likely the kitchen.
"I know, Dad." Gary reached for the bottle of expensive whiskey and poured himself another drink. As he did so a soft jingle could be heard in his jacket pocket. "Trust me, I know."