I interrupted our neighbour Danielle while she was doing yoga on her silvertop next door to ours, the other evening. She used to have easy access to her roof, for sunbathing, but then her landlord nailed their hatch shut. Mean. And scary. That's one fire exit snuffed out.
Now she scoots round from her terrace. I can't bear to look, although she's nimble (the yoga). When Vince and I lock ourselves out we also use the terrace for access, climbing over the side and onto the braai before hopping onto a chair.
Welcome to rooftop life. The low budget version.
The yellow pear is no mas. 'Ees dead, as the cat might say. It performed so very well. I have planted purple mustard in its pot. Also brewing: Swiss chard - the rainbow version, New Zealand spinach, a salad mix, fava beans and peas.
Two yellow tomatoes, great big giants, are ripening on the other side of the roof. I had forgotten about them altogether. I thought they were Brandywines. Oh. Wait. They are Brandywines. Yellow Brandywines. Ohhhhh... Nice.
A few more tomato sandwiches, then. I can't wait. Best thing, ever.
And I am going to have to have a block party for a ground cherry crumble, with everyone helping to husk the little fruit. Millions. An anonymous commenter left me a link to Cape gooseberries, which are bigger and more tart.