Of Figs and Birds

My balcony has been filled with birds. Their calls wake me in the morning, and all day I can hear them rustling around. The balcony floor is full of husks. When it warms up, which seems to be taking ia long time, I will go out and sweep and clean. The plants are all covered with bits of fabric, towels, old blankets, whatever I had in hand, to cover the plants and protect them from frost. I know a few plants may not make it. The geraniums, which I have overwintered for years, are all dead. I am worried about the big fig tree, but I have a young cutting started, so I will have figs if worse comes to worse.

I had to stay in town this weekend, so I am trying to make the best of it, but it is not the same. I miss the long open spaces, and my walks, but the birds on my balcony carry with them an echo of the fields and skies, so I persevere.