The cooler temperatures, and three days of non-stop rain, have brought planting days to an abrupt halt.
Trays of Petunias and herbs, Rosemary, German Thyme and Sweet Basil waiting to be planted in the warm Spring soil are now stacked inside the potting shed.
My dearest managed to clean out the pond before the rains came, and informs me that the pump has gone kaput, and so a trip to the hardware store is now on my list.
Sadly, there isn't any sign of our resident frog Igor this year, I 'spect he's gone on to greener pastures.
To make amends the woods are a virtual orchestra of croaking Tree Frogs, day and night, their amorous calls echo through the trees.
Cold, wet leaves
Floating on moss-colored water
And the croaking of frogs-
Cracked bell-notes in the twilight.
~ The Pond, Amy Lowell
