Write four lines of prose about: the dance contest.
Max has been busting out some pretty sweet moves whenever we're out somewhere that has music playing. Our local coffee shop has been a favorite location in particular. Earlier this week some reggae came on and he got off his chair and let loose.
"Oh, he dances too!" This from a woman who he'd earlier been telling all about the apple he was eating for a snack. "Is that ballet?"
No, lady, he's just dancing to the music. That's all.
All set for another market tomorrow. Bringing lots of Ambrosia apples, a few crates of Salish apples and Empress plums, a crate of leeks, cherry tomatoes, larger tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic. The forecast must have changed in the last couple of days, because I was expecting to see mid-twenties and clear skies.
Instead it's cloudy with showers and a high of 17.
I'll take the clouds and 17 degrees, as long as someone else takes the showers. Thanks kindly.
"This is absolutely ridiculous - I didn't stand a chance!"
"Well, you can hardly blame the judges, can you?"
"This is why we need separate age divisions!"
"What, and tell that cute little three year old that he can't compete against the adults?"