I do love frogs and toads. When we first built our little pond in the garden it loked beautiful but very still and lifeless, and the first signs of life were the arrival of pond skaters followed by waterboatmen and wirligigs. Then one day my small daughter and I noticed a newt crossing the pavement in town and just had to rescue it from all those shoes around. That went into our pond too, and now there are many newts!
The following spring frogspawn turned up in the water and our first frogs hatched, followed by toads the next year. I am now so anxious not to disturb them while hibernating that I am very nervous digging in the garden in the winter since I once speared one and I still shudder at the memory. Several frogs and toads spend the winter in my compost heap so that doesn't get disturbed until well into the summer!
Last night, coming home from a meeting, I found a male toad sitting on the pavement opposite our house. I couldn't bear the thought of someone stepping on him so I scooped him up in my hanky and carried him across the road, saving him the dangerous journey.
Now we have quiet little ripples in the pond and hear the occasional croak as he waits for a mate. They're late this year; it's been very cold with ice on the surface only last week.
Our Sylvanians really belong to our daughter Abby, now all grown up, and amongst them was a family of frogs. I must put them into one of my pattern photos one day.
Miss Frog is modelling a bridesmaid dress. However she is somewhat bleached as she was once stood against the window in the sunshine for quite a while.