musings on art, walks with the dog, life as it happens, in the slow lane
i relate to mr toad.
I was out collecting wood and almost (!) stepped on him, he was that still, warming just that little bit in the sunshine; I gently touched his back and he opened his mouth and closed his eyes: what did that mean? who knows with toads?
oh I love toads! have one in my garden; tho' I rarely see her. She lives in my woodpile.I've had fires out on my patio, and heard her calling, deep in the darkness. Different from frogs. Not seen any frogspawn in the pond yet; snow here again, and cold, cold, cold. White-out this morning! Everything's late this year. No birds nesting yet either. Tho they're calling, and mating.
they are quite special, and as I have mentioned before 'The wind in the willows' is one of my favourite books, and Toad has since settled himself in my head.It is very cold today: a sharp easterly wind making the outside world seem restless
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