Outside her small terrace is a perfect little green oasis
Post-quarantine coffee (tea for me) and custard tarts in Kala’s rampant garden. I have been looking out over it from my window like an imprisoned prince in a nursery rhyme. Watching her water her plants and grass. Seeing her deadhead.
But here we are for the first time since sowing. Since mid-May, on her birthday, when we always scatter her summer seeds and plant out the root-trainer trays.
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