more frogs, more of the time

The frog puddle, which was full to the brim on Sunday.


but these guys don't seem to be too worried.

If my pump weren't dying I would top the puddle up with the hose.


It rained quite a lot Saturday night, which added much (well, mostly humidity) to the planting efforts on Sunday, and probably to the species count of amphibians: charming American toad, many greenfrogs, a red-backed salamander, a wood frog, and a gray treefrog. Doug and I got everything waiting in my driveway planted (except for the dead: a moment of silence for a red valerian, a pot full of poppies, some thyme...). The Pitch pine and the asters went up on the hillside, the willow and the two irises and the rhododendron into the swamp in the back yard, and the cranesbill, the liatris, three or four daylilies, a clump of ginger, a clump of pink coreopsis... you know, just a few things, into the garden area I am trying to create outside the Loom Room. We were clearing the brush at that side of the house, cautiously, and mourning the disappearance a couple months ago of the frog who lived in a RubberMaid tub full of broken glass. It was a dependable neighbor, but then the kittens came... and there was at least one dead frog the right size. Anyway, as we were discussing these things, the same frog or a very similar one, definitely alive, popped up. So Doug got the tub, thought I drew the line at the broken glass, and we put rocks in and water and the frog moved in less than 48 hours later. Since the kittens have moved away, and are perhaps too old for the doubtful thrill of pursuing frogs anyhow, I hope he will stay and be safe.




I am trying to find out what issue of Rowan Birch is in, and trying something else in the meantime. More if it actully shapes up.