The wind blew throughout the farmer's market this afternoon. It was nice and warm until the sun dipped below the horizon, then temperatures dropped about 20 degrees (at least it felt like that.)
As we packed up our wares, a full moon became visible toward the east. I know that the newspaper says that tomorrow is the full moon, but I don't believe it. What a gorgeous sight.
I wish you could have seen the golden evening light wash over the gold and orange trees, all lit up by the full moon, larger than life. As I drove in to the driveway, the sheep munched on the little field by the road, the house loomed large and comforting, and all was bright and alive.
Made me think of the lyrics to my favorite song by Andrew Peterson, The Magic Hour. Remind me to post those lyrics someday, or find them yourself on YouTube and listen.
Now the moon is a large spotlight, rising high. The evening is clear and cool, but the house is still warm. We enjoyed our supper around the table and another couple of chapters of Where the Red Fern Grows. Mashed potatoes and roast chicken were every bit as good tonight as they were last night. Another jar of home canned green beans hit the spot. Along with several slices of Milk and Honey bread, carrots and fresh lettuce from another vendor. Now Thomas washes up the dishes, little ones try to go to sleep and tomorrow is another day.
I wonder if we will dream about pups and little boys and Ozark river bottoms? Or full moons and bread and the wind?