The
peppers have been ready at the farm for a little over a week, though the heat
and humidity of the past several days has certainly hastened their maturity.
It’s all Fred can do to keep up with orders from customers, particularly the
Europeans, who favor the farm’s pepper crop.
Bushels
of colors sit in the store, making a pleasing display of greens, oranges, reds,
and yellow, and we enjoy picking certain ones from the basket that have
peculiar features which give them resemblance to something or someone. It is a
variation of searching for shapes in the clouds above, enjoyable and silly.
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