Thankfully the weather has remained dry with a light breeze;
& even better, Pete has been here for much of the day to catch up with the groundworks for our Dairy Complex (the whole thing is turning out to be a lot more bloomin’ complex than I’d ever imagined as well, I can tell you).
As Tony was on his way back from Belfast I whizzed around like a whirling dervish, trying to find those elusive bits of paperwork without which the dreaded tax returns cannot be completed; & for the most part was thankfully successful.
On going outside to give Nanuk her breakfast however, I noticed that for the second time this week, there was somethin rather odd in her run – a dead frog. Tony had noticed the first one & had assumed I’d given her a new squeaky toy; but in fact it was the ‘real macoy’, albeit one which rather than squeaking, had definitely croaked (ho ho). But a bit of an odd thing to find in a dog’s kennel area! So to find this second unfortunate amphibian seemed distinctly odd…..
Back in the cottage, whilst tackling the washing up, I was rewarded with an answer to this curious phenomenon: basically (& you don’t get much more basic than this) it’s that time of year. Through the open kitchen window, a strange sound was floating up from the pond: a hollow rattle, a bit like the repeated dragging a stick along a ridged piece of wood. On a mild evening the sound is suprisingly powerful & if you’re quiet enough to sneak up without causing a disturbance, the whole pond is teeming with eyes bulging above the water’s surface as the frogs get on with their annual spawning.
To me, apart from the magic of nature, it emphasises how very wonderful this place is in its’ tranquility; after all, there are so few places left without the repetitious drone of traffic spoiling special moments such as these – we are so very lucky to be guardians of this little slice of Eden.