I've been tidying a winter's worth of debris from the terrace. As the snow retreats I advance, swooshing leaves and ice-heaved soil from the boards with a watering can, going indoors to fill it for each new swoosh. The water outside is shut off, so no hose, yet.
This wild kitty toed his way carefully along the top of the chainlink down below as I worked.
Above - the pruning book is my bible and is homework for a writing assignment in Cape Town, which will take me - happily - back to Babylonstoren.
My seed choices are modest for spring. The fava beans have soaked overnight and today I plant them. They are a March ritual. They'll have to come up and do their thing while I am in Cape Town. The Frenchman will send progress reports. If all goes well it will mean salads when I am back, then flowers, then beans. The cilantro late last year stood up to several freezings and snow before expiring, so it really, really prefers cool weather.
The pots on the terrace have almost all thawed and the standing water has drained. In some pots, digging speculatively, I found a dark heart of ice, fitting in my palm.
I fed the blueberries Holly Tone, and fed the roses some stinky Jobes granules.
And the doves have come back, along with some friendly house finches. Nobody froze, after all.