Write a four line poem about: the apocalypse.
The highway was open this morning, so I was able to make it through to attend the farmers market with Rebecca and her boyfriend Juan. Though the fire was certainly rather close to the road in places:
The market itself went fairly well. We sold 8 out of the 9 crates of peaches, 8 of the 10 crates of Gala apples, all the corn (there were maybe 3.5 crates on the truck), all the berries (only 6 pints between the blackberries and raspberries), and various amounts of other things.
It was Rebecca's last market with us, as sadly she'll be returning to Vancouver on Tuesday. She's been great company, a big help, and I know Max is going to miss having her around. There's been talk of her coming back next summer, so we'll keep our fingers crossed on that working out.
It is the end of days
As hell has come to call;
It is all over now -
That's it, no more, that's all.