Through highs and lows, heat, wind and shaky watering, the terrace is growing lusher by the minute. A couple of days from now, Marie will be flying home from Cape Town, leaving much peace and beauty astern, tearing apart a heart or two as she cuts hers in half to seek mine.

There isn’t much in Harlem to lure one back in, but the terrace and a black cat will team up with me in a bond of sheer need, welcoming our love home, begging for food and drink and presence in both the physical and ethereal planes, and offering ourselves in return.

Here are snapshots of the terrace’s recent statements to that effect.