Fool’s Top
Loudly whistling, I was harvesting this months crop. My whistling was out of tune, but I couldn’t care less. My next neighbors lived in a town some 10 miles from here and in the event there was someone more nearby, I didn’t care for them. At different times before and during the summer, I had planted some cauliflower, broccoli, beetroot, onions, pees, rhubarb and various potatoes in a glasshouse on my mountain top. I had setup and calculated their respective growth cycle well. Already four wooden crates were filled with vegetables. The tomato plants were still giving generously and I plucked the ripe ones. With care I placed the crates on the platform to bring them down the mountain. Early tomorrow morning the platform would arrive down in the valley at my house. Gravity did …