It was almost time to drag out the hose and water the gardens.  After so much rain there for a while, we had a nice dry spell, but we were due for some rain.  The rain began around seven tonight and I’m jumping in here in between storm cells.

     During one break between downpours, I went outside with the flashlight and checked around the pond.  Dear Hubby calls this doing my frog count because I always tell him how many I’ve seen after I do my walk around each night.  They certainly were active in the yard tonight.  I think they were enjoying the rain.  I counted nine bullfrogs.  I don’t often see more than four or five most nights.

     One small bullfrog took my presence as a threat.  He panicked, screamed, and took off as if the hounds of hell were on his water tight butt.  The poor thing careened into a plastic coffee can (we have it near the pond for the worms I catch to feed the fish), then he bounced off of a piece of slate, took a high flying leap, and landed with a loud splash in the pond.  The bigger frogs have more sense.