Write a four line poem about: the barbeque.
Had a better than expected market this morning. Going in I was thinking a lot about last year's parade, which felt like it dragged on forever while hardly anyone was shopping. This year the parade seemed a lot shorter and there was only maybe a ten or fifteen minute lull while it was going on.
Maybe it was less interesting than last year? Or maybe last year's version only seemed so long because nobody was in the market.
Either way, we sold out of nectarines, apples, peaches, blackberries, raspberries, cucumbers, zucchini, and corn. We brought home some tomatoes, maybe a pound of pickling cukes, and a handful of onions. Not bad at all.
It also served as a fine illustration of the difference between the Penticton and Osoyoos markets: during the three hours of the market on Wednesday night we sold a grand total of two and a half crates of fruit, whereas today, over the course of four and a half hours, we sold twenty-one crates of fruit.
Also, also: the space bar appears to be working properly again. No idea what happened or why, just glad that it is.
Fire up the grill, boys,
I've got a fresh kill!
We'll eat well tonight, boys,
And ain't that a thrill?