By eight the fence looks as if someone has hung a row of little paper rooms to air. The physalis husks greet the branch first. They nod to the gate. Only then does each lantern settle exactly one orange berry inside, as if the house were not complete without a quiet tenant.
We asked at the kiosk. "I thought they were leftover party lanterns," said the man who sells string and clothespins. "Then a husk nodded at the latch, the berry sat down like a guest taking off its coat, and the whole fence seemed to have learned lodging overnight."
The gardener kept a pencil note in the complaint-and-thanks book: if the branch has not been greeted, please do not hurry the berry. The next morning a neighbor came back with the same basket and waited through the greeting, the nod, and the one small housewarming. She said the lanterns looked like envelopes with the good news still inside.