We have been promised 60mph gusts through Saturday night. So the fig and some other pots came down off the side of the terrace to sit out the gales on the stone table. That miserable-looking plant on the right is oregano. A creeping form. Not very satisfactory, aesthetically. I'll get a bushier version this spring.
Cat leaves terrace to check out roof.
But comes back to dig into his salad bar.
There are worse ways to pass one's feline time.