Capisculen Cherries.

the village/August

Seems like summer is still with us.

No, it’s autumn but autumn is glorious.

Did you see the moon the other night; it too was glorious?

It was almost full; the meadow was awash in moonlight.

A sea of capisculen white.

Capisculen?

It might not be a real word, it bubbled up in my brain.

A brain bubble.

They are often dislodged whilst running.

Have you been for a run this morn?

Not yet, and I errored.

Erred?

Error-ed, I committed an error.

How so?

I ate my muesli, added some yoghurt and a slice of melon, I need to digest.

Ah, melon. Autumnal fruit behold.

Speaking of which, you know the little guy in the market who sells fruit?

Claude? I know him well, shakes my hand every week.

He won’t be there next week.

What! This is bad news.

He has finished for the summer.

Oh no!

We won’t see him again until he appears with a table of cherries sometime next year. Cherries, then a couple of weeks after cherries and apricots, then the cherries dwindle though first they change colour, then the apricots get bigger, then the peaches and the nectarines move in. And now he said goodbye.

This is my last tray of peaches?

It is, try to make them last. There are 19.

I wonder why he doesn’t grow melons.

He’s a specialist of tree fruit.

Melons are ground crawlers.

But tasty!