I present my first witness. A large tomato.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the roof ripped. It slid along slowly over the month of August, until even I had to admit that it was not the roof it used to be.
So I did something that surprised even me.
I bought some thick plastic and made a new cover. Look - sewing machines and zippers were even involved, not to mention 2 rolls of Gorilla tape.
It's still not a thing of beauty but there is more of a sense of symmetry to it, although there was a brief moment late in the afternoon when I thought it was done for:
I was inside, applying large quantities of Gorilla tape to the inside when there was a sudden thump on the roof. Something sizeable had landed on it. I whipped around, feeling fairly confident that it would be something dead, something that slipped from the talons of a hawk. We have a lot of hawks in our neighbourhood - hawks, eagles, big birds of prey that don't hesitate to, um, prey on all the little birds in the nearby bird sanctuary. Sometimes they drop things...
But it wasn't anything dead.
It was Toffee, the cat.
He evidently thought he was being cute and playful. He has this thing where he likes to take a giant run at a tree, climb as high as he can go, then pose while we either laugh, take pictures, or, in some cases, climb up after him. It's a game he loves. He's also extremely good at climbing. He was probably thinking while Sheila's inside this seemingly solid structure, why not leap onto the top of it and amuse her? She will think I am very clever and daring. She will pat me. Perhaps catnip will be involved.
And, as I looked up at those little paddy paws, digging into the roof of my lovely newly sewn greenhouse structure, and that little pointy face peeking cheekily down at me, I am sorry to report that the only things I thought about that cat were too coarse to print here. Much too coarse. Many swear words might have exited my mouth. I might even have dashed outside and swatted at him vainly as he clawed his way to the peak and paused, claws doing irreparable damage while he contemplated my sudden change of mood (alas, he is a cat of very little brain). My hand might even have connected, at last, with his furry body, sending him flying wildly into the tomato bushes, but we won't get too deeply into that. Suffice to say that both the roof and the cat survived. One might have needed more Gorilla tape and the other might have needed a few hours hiding time in the bushes, licking one's wounds, but again, we won't delve too deeply. We'll just keep our fingers crossed that the two don't come together like that. Ever again.
On another note, see this concrete staircase? I'm giving you, Gentle Reader, the opportunity to choose the colour of it, because, let's admit it, it's not a thing of beauty. I can see at least 3 changes of colour from the previous owner of this house: brown, red, and yellow. Without getting into someone else's colour choices and offering up some (because they'll have to be rude) personal comments, let's just say that it's not a good look. I'm doing a gray palette, with a view to one day painting the entire house, so your choices are these:
These names are from Martha's new line at Home Despot, and while the idea of choosing a colour like Artichoke Heart, Spud, or Pink Sea Salt is tempting, I need to be somewhat practical (I can hear Richard the Always Practical gasp at this shocking revelation). But, in a wonderful twist of strangeness, Tempest was FDPG's Hippie Chick name, so in a way I could combine practicality and my penchant for cheery flaky idiocy at the very same time.
So go to it. This message will self-destruct in 10 hours. And someone's choice will be forever emblazoned on my front steps.