The rites of spring

I've told them. I do it every year. Yet still they come back, doing their hanky-panky in the fountain when there's a perfectly good natural pond ideal for such sport.

So I shall pick up the bucket with a hole in it (Henry never appreciated that there is a use for that legendary item) and transport the spawn from the fountain to the pond. I do this because the water in the fountain will go away leaving the tadpoles and froglets stranded - all that ranine frolicking would have been to no avail!

What follows from froggy fun

And when I've decanted the spawn, I'll put the broken fence back together, dredge the leaves from out of the fountain, reconstruct the edging to the flower beds - why is it that such destruction is visited on the garden while our winter eyes are averted from its care?

But then it's spring - first green as the ancients called it - and that's when we tidy up, refresh, put on our best smile and go out to face the world just that little bit cheerier and perkier!

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