Three times a day, Manoli climbs up the gas pipe in the garden and leaps up to the first-floor balcony, where he mioaos at the window insistently until I open the door for him. Thus am I interrupted from my writing... Is he my cat or am I his human?
The cherry tree in my garden is full of fruit. Bright red against a leafy backdrop, the cherries beckon to me. I am fond of cherries. Not so much of the cherry flavor that they put in ice cream or drinks. But of the fruits themselves, which one does not easily find in stores -- … Continue reading Musings Upon a Cherry Tree