It's misty in the blithy tove and a gentle rain is falling.
The peace is intermittently broken by the wail of one of the neighbors' children. Another neighbor laughs, cackling. Her partner curses several times, in exasperated fashion. His Rottweiler barks. Maybe he's bathing the dog.
The traffic on Route 9 sounds loud in the tricky atmospherics. I yell at one of my cats, Claire, to leave the frogs alone. She ambles up to the porch where I sit at a lit lantern doing a "write." She asks to be let in the house. I lean back in my chair and open the screen door. Two minutes later she asks to be let in. "I thought I just let you in." A minute later she miaows to be let out.
At least the frogs have some peace.
No, she's back at the pond.
Photo credits: my husband. The tube at the frog's head? Frogs are frabjous, don't seek the spotlight at all. It was hiding under the pump.
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