The mountains rise in the distance, pale blue spiked with crimson, sienna, and gold. Last night was crisp and washed a sharp frost over the fields—but the early morning sun whisked it away quickly. Leaves have just started to fall, billowing down & resting gently atop the tallgrass. Sweet Applewood smoke rises from the farm’s weighing shack, and the trees are full and ripe with tonight’s pie filling. Aged wooden crates sit empty along the building side. Hills full of Honeycrisp, Macoun, McIntosh, Red Delicious, & Sweet Goldens rise & dip out to the horizon.

Row 30 on page 9 of pattern should have a M1 after the last k3 at the end of each side