Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Boxwoods and drama on the terrace


Do you see the three new boxwoods? I hope they are happy in their new home, far from their Virginian roots (though naturally, some roots made the trip, too). I like them very much. They seem to pint the terrace down, like good solid table settings that prevent the tablecloth from flying away. Thank you again to Paul and Sonya Westervelt, who hauled them all the way up here a couple of weeks ago. Boxwoods grow slowly, and these sizeable specimens are a generous gift.


There have some changes since I took that top photo. Estorbo fell in love, for one thing, and decided he had to leap off the terrace, from behind the barbeucue (top L corner). Well, he looked like he was going to. Down below staring up at him with dreamy eyes was a white cat. We think it may be Pebbles, whose name is often called from the building next door. Miaowing and hissing and many dark looks from our furry friend when we intervened. 

The escape route has now been blocked off with a little bamboo fence. The cat was determined, even wiggling under the barbecue, whose base is now barricaded with empty terrace cotta pots. The little feline dude is messing with my sense of garden balance. I'll have to fine tune again, later.


I am bidding the terrace, the man, and the cat farewell for a little while, and very sadly. I will soon be roaring east over the Atlantic to Heathrow, before heading south, over southern Europe, the Mediterranean (the ports lit with tiny lights, at night) and down the the continent of Africa, to land in Cape Town.


Vincent has watering instructions, and cat-brushing instructions, and sourdough starter feeding instructions. In that order. And if my 4 oz of ziplocked starter make it through customs I hope to bake some in Cape Town. Making one from scratch, there, strong enough to bake the loaves I have been baking since early this year would take about as many weeks as I have in town.


The Etoile Violette never really rallied, after the move from Brooklyn. Its bloom has been spartan. I assume it's a combination of not-enough-sun and the brutal winter.


The annual Talinum is happy - and we have been eating the leaves in salads.


And the last roses opened yesterday - Teasing Georgia.

It is July. Summer up north, winter down south.

See you on the other side.
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