George had just spotted a tadpole in the garden pond.
After a bunch of frog spawn had gone to Miss T’s Butterflies class of 4-5 year-olds, and another clump to our friend ‘Frog’, Mrs T was convinced that what remained was never going to hatch. Well, at least one egg has done what it was meant to do! This is how things looked a few weeks ago.
The other day when I walked past this point the sun was shining, the parking warden was smiling and ready to chat when I asked if the motorists were all keeping the rules. ‘Aye, today they are, but it won’t be long before someone gets it wrong.’ He went on, ‘Enjoy this sunshine. It puts a smile on your face, and you’re glad to be out of doors.’ Opening his arms and broadening his Scottish accent, he concluded, ‘And the great thing is, they cannae tax ye for it!’
Miss Turnstone teaches the butterflies, a reception class of 4-5 year-olds. and every year takes some spawn to school so they can watch the tadpoles develop. The frog spawn comes from her mother’s pond.
Hoping to get a photograph for them, I found myself beset with reflections wherever I squatted myself down. Having rejected my snaps altogether, I tried for just one more. This frog chose that moment to swim across the mass of eggs in the bottom of the pond, and gave us an action shot. Not great, but good enough.
The clear water in the pond suggests that it is more than good enough; there’s plenty of weed to start the tadpoles off in life, but we do need to keep a weather eye out for frost. Once the eggs are afloat we could lose a lot to freezing conditions. We’ll live in hope and be ready to help.
These last few days I have been enjoying the gradual appearance of the violets along the side of our house, but instead of getting down on my hands and knees to take a picture of them, on this Saint David’s day, let me share these from the little Welsh city of Saint David’s. We were there in Spring a few years ago and these were alongside a path leading to the saint’s birthplace. ‘Be faithful in the little things’, he told his followers as he lay dying.
Let’s be faithful to the little things of this earth and always have room for a few violets or even daisies, beside our paths.
I was dining alone with 3½ tear old Abel the other day, when he put a spoon into his glass of water. (His mother need not know about the 50 year old toy truck that helped feed him by ferrying grapes across the table.)
‘It makes it bigger’, Abel announced of his spoon in the water, so taken with this that he did not notice the photograph being taken,
‘Like your magnifying glass’, I suggested. He considered this for a moment. ‘My magnifying glass is missing.’ I feel sure he knows exactly where it is. He seems to think that things like to hide. Under the piano is a good spot.
But note the budding scientist: don’t tell him he’s wrong, when he is simply not in possession of enough facts and enough vocabulary to say more clearly what is happening. Let’s see if he can find that magnifying glass!