View From Under the Fig Tree

I was distracted by the iris and knit a whole section going in the wrong direction. It took me twice as long to undo it and figure it out, but I’m all set now. I zigged when I should have zagged.

There are a few early figs under foot—it’s called the breba crop. I don’t think they will ever ripen. They are hard and mostly green, but something is knocking them to the ground. At some point I switched from knitting to weeding. Still dealing with the after effects of the winter storms—piles of dirt and debris up against the lilac, and a couple of missing ornamentals. Then suddenly it cooled off; the fog is in. Grey. Time for happy hour.