Tag Archive | froglets

Tomato Night

Sep6

I woke this morning and considered how all the conditions of my mostly contented life have been dependent on tens of thousands of beings, human and otherwise. I’m grateful that this reflection has become habitual. I intended to focus on my blessings and sift attention away from my sufferings. But one negative thought led to another and I was soon swept onto a bad train and carried far from my intention.

Baking molasses cookies and then exercising for an hour with Mel both helped derail the glum train, and then a long meditation reset my perspective back on the right track. Just in time for zoom cooking with Amy.

It was so good to see her, it’s been a while. We started Tomato Night with a spontaneous tomato martini. We smashed a couple of cherry tomatoes into the shaker with a splash of balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt, and the regular gin and vermouth, with another cherry tomato for garnish.

While eight ounces of cherry tomatoes roasted with olive oil and salt (for tomato butter), we mixed pesto with cream cheese and cut puff pastry to bake upside down tarts. Sliced tomatoes lay on parchment paper drizzled with olive oil and balsamic awaiting their pastry tops.

A quick egg wash, and into the oven for twenty minutes. While they baked we pulsed the roasted cherry tomatoes with salt and pepper, and mashed them with softened butter.

The tarts came out perfect, and we flipped them over to serve.

I toasted a slice of sourdough to dip in the butter, Amy had ciabatta. We sat down together miles apart for dinner. I’m grateful for the anchor of awareness flowing through the day, for the ability to consciously choose where I place my attention.

More Froglets!

Aug11

I’m grateful that there were plenty of windows of opportunity to visit the pond over the weekend. A massive wildfire northwest of here about eighty crow miles covers much of the state in smoke depending on which way the wind blows. When it blows from the south these days, we have good air; when it blows from the north, as it’s been doing the past several nights, the air quality shoots up over 110 and many of us have to stay inside. I’m grateful it’s not worse: friends from Chicago to Syracuse have been experiencing the worst air in the world on occasion over the past couple of weeks, due to even more massive wildfires in Canada. So when I get a window of clean air I make the most of it, and visit the pond.

Despite jaw and tooth pain as my mouth settles around new crowns and attendant complications, I’ve “gotta eat sometimes,” as the dentist kindly reminded me. So I’ve enjoyed eating homemade brown sugar-cinnamon poptarts for breakfast the past few days. Amy recommended the recipe and since that was always my favorite flavor poptart growing up I had to try it. Pretty good for a first effort, and not that hard to make. Not perfect, either, so I’ll have to make them again.

After breakfast, or sometimes before, I visit the pond, where fewer and fewer tadpoles swim and more and more froglets crowd the edges. They’re in the rushes, on the lily pads, among the flagstones, under the flagstones, out in the grasses. This evening I took a quick look and had to step very carefully to avoid stepping on some: little froglets everywhere! They’re so tiny they get a little tangled in the grass stems when they startle and try to hop to the pond for safety. Wren could catch and eat them easier than she does the grasshoppers, but she’s been very responsive to my admonishments to leave it.

Above, four froglets cluster at the edge, and a nearly-turned tadpole rests in the warm shallow just above the tiny snail on the brick. In the detail below you can see a fifth froglet’s leg peeking out below the brick, underwater.

At the slow north end, where algae has collected, I couldn’t count the gathered froglets, and kept getting closer, and closer.

I hadn’t thought about what the soles of a froglet’s feet look like and it kind of surprised me to see the little bumps. I think these are the toes beginning to develop, but that’s just an educated guess. After seeing how far they’ve ventured from the pond already and how fragile and vulnerable they are, I may need to use my next window to lay out some branches and build a few rock piles; I certainly won’t be mowing again this year.

After a weekend of adventures and work and smoke and play, Wren and I both rest.

Each Day is a Gift

Aug3

The pond just keeps on giving. More froglets in all stages, some with tails climbing onto the rushes, tadpoles with arms bulging beneath their skin, and some fully transformed. The rushes seethe with them fleeing when we get down there and the water bubbles beneath as they disappear into it. It happens so fast, they’re so tiny, I’m trying to film it but they dive before I can even steady the camera.

The good news is that by now there are so many that even when the masses dive away I can still sneak up on a few. Some look pretty thin and vulnerable to me, others look fat and sassy.

And whose eggs are these strung along the curly rush behind the froglet?

There’s always at least one big mama keeping watch.

The hummingbird feeders are busy, too; there’s not enough time in the day! Come evening, I walked the little pets up the drive a little way, and was startled when I turned around to see this:

The Leroux Fire is less then twenty crow miles northwest on BLM land. With winds it grew from one acre this afternoon to a hundred by dark. Thunderstorms Friday did bring some rain, but also lightning, and this fire may have been smoldering for two days before erupting. Another close call on this mesa with a strike at a neighbor’s, but the Crawford volunteer fire department put out the burning tree before it could spread. We are all so grateful for their commitment, bravery, and skill.

Froglets!

Aug1
I didn’t see the one hiding behind until I zoomed into the picture.

Now that I know where and how to look for them they’re all over the pond, in various colors with tails of various lengths. I saw one kick through the water like a grownup without any tail, too fast to catch on camera. This little one hung out under the rush flower for a long time—see the nubbin of tail? The rest of it already metabolized. And then the shot of the day, below.

Perspective

Aug1

It’s been such a joyful journey to watch these little creatures grow. I’ve felt like I had a pretty good handle on their development, checking on them a couple of times a day, noticing the first tiny hind legs developing, and then seeing the forelegs on a few yesterday. I sent a picture to Dr. Amphibian, and he asked if any were coming out of the water onto land yet. Well I think not, I thought, If I’m just now seeing the forelegs, but I didn’t say so. I’m learning.

As I was leaving pondwatch last evening, there was a flicker in the rushes, a hint of a hop, and it was gone before I could be sure, but I thought I saw a froglet! A baby garter snake also escaped my camera; thinner than a pencil and quick it slithered off the flagstone and swam across the pond to disappear into the rushes.

Pondering what my friend had asked me, I came down to the pond this morning with fresh eyes, a shift in perspective. I looked more closely into the marshy ground with an open mind. These curly rushes over the years have grown roots to the bottom of the pond and created their own little land masses. When I noticed a baby frog right away, I had to laugh at my hubris, to think that in my couple of superficial visits a day I was keeping up with their development!

I knew the tadpoles had been clustering around the edges of the rushes for a week or two, but I hadn’t thought to inspect the rushes themselves for froglets. I only saw the tadpoles who swam away from the edges when Wren or I came close enough to disturb them.

There are still five or six adult frogs hanging around, some as big as the palm of my hand.

But the froglets, they’re only the size of one thumb joint—and yet perfectly formed complete miniatures of their parents! I only saw half a dozen, but now I know how well they hide I’m sure there are far more than I counted. The habitat is perfect for them: the rushes are partially submerged, providing a lattice over pockets of warm shallow water. As they make their metabolic transition from herbivores to carnivores, they can find the exact niche they need in any moment somewhere in the spongy rush islands, and when they’re completely transformed into froglets they can climb all the way out.

Seeing one perching on a lily pad was absolutely the best part of my day.

The pond is rich in other lives as well. Dragonflies, damselflies, water bugs, spiders, and apparently enough tiny animals to feed a thousand froglets. I’m profoundly grateful for the way each day enhances my perspective.