From my balcony in Istanbul, I have a partial view of the Bosporus. During winter, when the trees lose their leaves, my view becomes clearer and wider. In the middle of summer, like today, this view is restricted by two trees. The nearest is a fig tree, whose now-ripening fruits I can nearly grab from the balcony. The other is a tree I haven't been able to identify, whose name I don't yet know. A few nights ago, a storm came down off the Black Sea, driving violent winds up against the hillside where I live. When I awoke the next morning, I saw that my view was clearer and wider, and I could see more of the city's Asian coast—the tallest section of the fig tree had cracked against the wind and come down, now resting on the path to the front gate.