It was too lovely to sit inside and draw. Instead, I took my camera out and went to search for signs of life in the garden. While a lot of new growth was pushing up all around, all I found to get excited about was one lonely crocus that had escaped the deer and bright new dots of green scattered in the winter burgundy of the hens and chickens. Not much. But promising.I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the tree toad that shared our deck for two years--but there were no signs of him.
I should have known better. The temps were still not warm enough. Toad was probably still sleeping deeply under the hens and chickens? If he emerges again this year,I thought, I should probably give him a name? I supposed that three years on deck, he's a pet.
What do you name a toad who comes out of hibernation pasty white till he's had enough sun to renew his colors, who likes to camp out under the cushions of our chairs making us have to look for him before we sit to enjoy our breakfasts, who digs holes in my flower pots and leaves little tiny turds all around for me to clean up? All I can think of is "Toad." I can hardly wait to see him. --Just a few more degrees...
Okay, I couldn't resist my one and only crocus.