And here is the little tree (which Paul has named Koji, in honor of a beloved Red Sox pitcher) in his new habitat, along with some transplanted friends: a couple of yellow-green hostas, a shade-loving sedum, an ornamental creeping ginger. They've been heeled in along the fence line for a couple of years, and finally I'm able to move them to a more permanent home.

There are a few more things to move before I can buy rhododendrons for the fence hedge, so Koji's bed will expand.

It's sounds funny to say this, given that I lived for more than 20 years on a 40-acre spread, but the large size of this back yard is daunting. For a city plot it's big, and nobody has ever done anything decorative with it, not in its entire existence. Somebody, once, had a clothesline; there's a pulley buried in one of the Norway maples. But I can find no trace of walkways or previous plantings: nothing. Except for the two enormous Norways, it's a blank. 

Now it has a fire pit and Koji. Little steps.

Other than plant my new tree, the biggest thing I accomplished yesterday was to invent this fresh fig and wild blueberry tart, glazed with peach jam. Crisp short crust, neat slices, excellent flavor. I felt like Star Baker.