A few weeks ago...
The sun appeared briefly on Monday and I could not resist, after breakfast, a quick sortie to the terrace to repot the wintergreen which had been sitting in its plastic pot for so long. I took the dead Euphorbia Diamond Frost from its terra cotta and replaced it with the gaultheria, whose roots were quite thickly netted around the edges. The berries are still impeccable and the leaves shiny and green. A lovely little plant and much appreciated when the terrace turns drab. I did some tidying up, finding some viable, nameless lily bulbs under the euphorbia and putting them in the big pot where the baby fennels, offshoots of this summers' fronds, have been planted. I wonder if the fennel will make it. I cleaned up leaves from the gravel, pinched some catnip leaves for the cat who joined me on the stone table, and covered a couple of pots with terra cotta saucers to prevent excessive snowmelt and consequent rotting of lily bulbs in them. The fig is under the grill and wrapped in black plastic and I have no idea whether that will be sufficient.
Just as I am adjusting to the shutting and slowing down here, the turning inwards, the shyness and happiness of dark sidewalks and warmly lit windows, I will find myself in full sun till 8pm, a garden in full birdsong and summer in full flight, a hemisphere away...
And a hemisphere away, I will collect a little bit of that turning inward, of that shyness of dark sidewalks and lit windows, and I will place it on a photo for you and send it across cyberspace and oceans, so that you remember, one moment at a time...
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