Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Cat on a cold tar roof

Estorbo, on squirrel patrol. He doesn't stay out too long in these very cold temperatures, but both of us like the cold, at least for a while. His latest eccentric habit of drinking water from a glass on the stone table on the terrace has been derailed because the water is frozen.

I should tidy the terrace. It is all rasping leaves and grating brown stems. And, not too far off, I must grit my teeth and prune the fig. Really prune it. It's easy to tell other people to do it to their figs, but I have never pruned the fig's branches, only the roots. It is such a modestly-sized tree. But this year it will undergo both surgeries. Topped and tailed. The fig yield this year was lower than usual, and the pruning will encourage the new, sappy green growth on which the main fig crop grows.

February is around the corner. You know what that means: witch hazels. I would appreciate some more winter, before then. Some snow, for example.
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