The Fig Twig Flourisheth

Matt here. Paula’s trapsing around Asia at the moment, so I figured I’d give you, dear reader, an update on the status of the Roof Deck. I was sick in bed the past week or so and I hadn’t been out there, but yesterday I finally felt well enough to take a look. With the warm weather this year, I wasn’t that surprised to see things are really happening out there ! The first thing I noticed is that our fig tree is doing a lot better. The previous week, my sworn enemy Luke Folger came over and saw the admittedly sad state of our fig tree and called it a “fig twig”. (Seriously, a friggin fig twig? How insulting!) It’s doing better now, thank you very much:

Other things are happening. The Boston Ivy that grows on the deck  is probably going to cover the entire back of the building this year. When we first built the RD, it wasn’t on the building at all! Oddly, it’s died out a bit on the sides. It’s also growing into our next door neighbor Alex’s window. It was from his garbage that I pulled that cool plastic ship.

Also, THE HYDRANGEA VINE HAS FINALLY FLOWERED! Three years ago I bought Paula this vine. I like hydrangeas and it said hydrangea vine on the label, and I thought that it’d be even cooler than a bush. Turns out it’s a totally different species, one which apparently takes three years to generate a flower, which looks pretty lackluster so far, but I’m still happy about the Slow-Flowering Bland Bullshit:

Last, the thyme has flowered. The thyme, like the rosemary and a bunch of other stuff, never actually died this winter, or looked dormant like plants are supposed to. They stayed green the entire thyme (nice), along with broccoli and some weeds and this weird evergreen-ish, Mr. Miyagi-type plant Paula has out there, left to us by the nice guys who used to live on the top floor of the building next to us. They broke up and moved out. Now we have this lady and her kid who seem nice enough, except that her boyfriend whistles loudly from the street for her to let him in, screaming “Tina!” between whistles. every single day. He whistles a special melody so she (and we) know it’s him. A phone call or buzzer ring just isn’t personal enough for El Whistlero. Anyway, the thyme:

Happy spring, everyone!