|Snowy Monday afternoon at the farm in Tokyo.|
Needless to say, I was thrilled. Once I filed a new story with my editor, I dashed out the door to...shovel. Then I dashed about in the snow in a manner similar to when I was ten. (I'm considerably beyond those two numbers now.) I made a snow angel in the pocket park behind our building. I was happy as a lark.
The hubby and I walked over to the farm, helping push a stuck motorist to a safe parking place along the way, and laughing as two little girls threw snowballs at each other. They felt as much glee as I did with my snow angel, although I had a proper hat on. They wore sento towels on their heads. I'm sure it seemed a logical choice when they ran out the door.
Everything was coated in snow and it kept coming. The hubby suggested going in the farm gate and knocking some snow off the row covers. I said it would just melt. We shouldn't worry.
Famous last words.
|My garden under snow.|
The plastic tunnels bowed under the weight of the snow, but the net tunnels over the norabo had broken. Nearly without exception they lay flat in place, hoops cracked and split. Somewhere under all that were the plants. Norabo is hardy, but I still worried. Unearthing them proved to be a rather delicate process as the sun had quickly warmed the snow enough over the netting to make it difficult to move in one piece. As I excavated I tried to remember exactly where the plants were located. A little squashing did occur.
Turns out all is well. The little norabo survived with flying colors as did the rest of the plants in the netted row. (The sun reflecting off the snow made photos out of the question.) Now, we'll have to see how they fare with the coming freezing nights.