This past week was the next to last Farmer's Market and it started out a little less humid and a bit cooler than it had been. I loaded up an assortment of plants to take, something for every taste I hoped. It was a slow day, but after the first hour, an acquaintance from church came along, perched on the truck tailgate, and we talked for about an hour. I kept watching a cloud that got darker and larger and closer. I should have jumped into action when I saw the honey man take down his umbrella. But it was too late for me. The wind came up and big drops fell in splashes. My friend and I scurried around cramming the plants back in the truck every which way.We had about half of them loaded when I turned around to get another plant and found my friend holding up the tent with his head. It had collapsed right on him!
I laughed. What else could I do? I told him I was going to start calling him Big Bad John because he was holding up the tent while I scrambled to finish loading. This only took a few minutes but I was as soaked as I would have been if I had a hose turned on me. Water was dripping off my nose and my shoes were squishy. I took him to his car and then lit out for home.
I could not help but smile about my watery adventure. A few plants were dumped out but nothing bad happened. I was reminded of a friend from long ago who always described our escapades as adventures. This would have been a good one to share with her, but since she is far away, I was lucky to have someone else to share with. He may not have enjoyed it as much as I did , but that was his loss if he didn't.
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