Copy cat

I admire blipmate Biddy's rockery so I made something similar for the balcony

And a tidbit from James Whitcomb Riley

   And softer -- and sweet as the breeze
That powdered our path with the snowy
   White bloom of the old locus' -tree!
Let the whipperwills help you to sing it,
   And the echoes 'way over the hill, 
Tel the moon boolges out, in a chorus
   Of stars, and our voices is still.