The sewers, knitters and crocheters among you are probably sadly familiar with the term Frogging.
For the others, it’s the act of unravelling, unpicking or undoing your work – rippit, geddit?
Being currently sadly without any handwork that doesn’t involve a cordless drill and a box cutter, I was wandering around the garden this morning with the Dowager, planning my forthcoming pruning and slashing programme, coffee in hand, and keeping a sharp lookout for green ants, which have invaded in a serious way. We were inspecting the jungly tangle of foliage next to the patio, consisting of Monstera, giant Taro and a lot of ferns. I heard a little trill, and took a sharper look. There were tiny green tree frogs everywhere, the size of my thumbnail and smaller.
This garden has much more wildlife than my former one. There are koels, rosellas, willy wagtails, magpies (who are getting very territorial at this time of year, almost time to bring out the big hat), bee eaters, honey eaters, wattle birds, collared doves – and that’s just for starters. My bird book is still packed, but I’ll be trying to keep a record, in writing if not in pictures. Who ever has their camera handy, turned on and at the right focal length when something exotic flies past…?
I’d like to encourage the frogs. They eat insects, which can only be good. The Husband isn’t keen, as he feels that the water the frogs would need to be comfortable would in turn encourage mosquitos to breed. I’d like to give it a go and see who wins! At least I shall have some trickling water, which the mozzies won’t breed in, since they need it still. A little bit of water will encourage all sorts of useful creatures who will eat the less useful creatures that are eating my garden.
Back to work. I have doors to install in my new pantry cupboard and a trip to make to the storage unit to pick up my baking supplies.