Circling the wagons

It's a modest little thing: birch poles to offset the fishbowl effect on the Harlem terrace. They will support Gloriosa lilies and Clematis and hyacinth beans. It is not a real screen. All in the head.

I put the posts in a week ago (they are six feet  long and go all the way to the bottom of the wooden planters, two feet deep) and yesterday afternoon the Frenchman helped me attach the cross pieces. As soon as we had finished, the four-strong flock of mourning doves came to visit, walking up and down the birch poles on their little rosy feet. They approve. 

There will be more interesting pictures to come, I hope, with plants.

I would like to stay here longer. There is a lot to like. 

The sour cherry down below is in bloom. 

And the Uvularia grandiflora came up and flowered in record time. I would have planted them with woodland phlox and ferns, to take over in their dormancy, if the terrace budget had been bigger. As it is I've splurged on good potting soil and some pots, and those birch poles.

Our time here is uncertain. Tell that to a gardener, whose pleasure is investment in the future.

And uncertainty is my demon with the longest tail.