Spent most of the morning posting flyers for the big flea market on Saturday. I put them up at the Little Egg and Stafford libraries, the post office, the break room at K-Mart (long, boring story, so I'll skip it), and on the doors of the community center, where the event will be held. We have 61 sellers, now let's HOPE we have ten times that many buyers. If it rains--oh, no, I can't even contemplate such a catastrophe!
Bought a new dish drainer and rack and a few other items. Home, had lunch and did various until it was time to leave for my friend's. Got up there just minutes before she did, transferred my pickin' equipment to her car, and we drove off.
Got yet more lettuce (I just finished last week's) in the barn, then set out to pick more strawberries and snow peas. My friend took the former, as the berries are way out in the north forty (or wherever) and I was the pea picker.
I'm afraid not a very effective one, either. Peas just hide under the bushes and it's terribly difficult to find them because they're the same color and virtually the same shape as the plant. Besides, the rows where you had to walk were very uneven--bumpy and with weeds and vines, all poised to trip me up.
We were entitled to only a pint, anyway, but I had picked only about ten pods (I'm serious) before my friend, came up, having already picked two quarts of berries. She took over and quickly and efficiently, filled the small container.
I reflected that I'm considerably less agile and more awkward than I was last summer at the farm. Makes me sad, resentful, and bewildered all at once. How could I find so difficult things I did with ease such a short time ago? Depressing.
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