Frederico The Frog...

Watering the plants this morning in the garden I was reminded of the therapeutic value of such moments and the sheer bliss involved. People think of bliss I think as intense pleasure, but I think there is also the sense of inner calm and peace that could be described as bliss. Until the dramatic end to the heatwave a little while back, watering the garden had become not so much a chore, that would be ridiculous, but nevertheless a responsibility. Not that I ever resented it and always enjoy it but anything that by its very nature needs to be done, literally ever day, can at times seems onerous. In other words, it can be easy to see it as a task, rather than a privilege.

 The significant rain in the last two weeks had reduced the need to water the plants so after today's little reminder, I am hoping for no more rain for a while. An activity which is only really possible for about 4 or five month of the year, should be treasured. You don’t know what you got till the whole things gone, the attitude of gratitude, summers lease being all too short etc.

So in probably just over a months’ time, this act will no longer be required and I’ll miss it. It’s a reminder, not only, of carpe diem – I learnt that phrase watching Roxanne with Steve Martin- seizing the day or indeed the moment, but trying to focus on that moment. Our minds are so distracted, filled with worries, pre-occupations, that simple acts such as this do allow one to forget.

“Someone saved my life tonight.” Elton John & Bernie Taupin. 1975

Saving Frederico…Frogs by their physical appearance are more pleasant company than toads.  No–one’s fault. Like with humans, it’s just the luck of the draw. Though a human being who doesn’t have the luck of being easy on the eye at least has the option of working on their personality. Toads, judging by the way the breed, presumably don’t. A violent, graceless, murderous orgy, I think is an apt description. They should do an animated version of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus with Toads, I reckon.

A frog’s presence is as soothing as their skin is smooth. Toads; bumpy and bilious, just ain’t got it.  Our frogs have become very approachable. They have a very calming energy too. Very still, sitting in the corner, a few feet away. So it was all the more gratifying that I saved Frederico’s life last night. It was about half-nine, dark, quiet and still and we heard some shuffling. This is perfect weather for frog spotting. Sure enough, it was Frederico, but I looked again and I wasn’t convinced. This frog seemed smaller and paler. It was, me thought, the other frog which appeared a couple of weeks ago. But where is Frederico? Do we have a usurper? Murder most foul amongst our amphibian friends? Should we call this new frog Macbeth? Then more shuffling. It seemed to be coming from the drain. Surely not? Closer inspection revealed a pair of goggly eyes seemingly belonging to Fred. He was trapped. Panic all round. But the cover lifts up and he gratefully and speedily jumped out, an inch from my hand. Joy all round. He then quickly moved past Macbeth (or Lady Macbeth as I think it’s a lady) who remained perfectly still and took his place behind the corner pipe. We ascertained that this is his specific place at night. A stand-off of epic proportions ensued. Neither one batted an eyelid. The tension was palpable. My life is not very exciting of course. Around a half hour later they remained as they were.  So I watered the plants thoroughly and not long after Lady Macbeth set off, presumably now confident in finding a damp corner to spend the night. Either that or Fred's chat was no good. Frogs need a damp place to spend their time. Otherwise they’ll dry out, you see.

Elsewhere the flowers remain sprightly but there are far fewer “buzzing things” to quote Baldrick’s description of a bee (Blackadder Three – The Dictionary) which is sad. The odd honeybee, the odd hoverfly and one or two brown bumbles.

So it’s a question of quality not quantity with my friends the bees and and as with the plant watering, I’ll cherish every moment I see a bee buzzing around before the wind turns to autumn and winter forcing the bees into retirement followed by the next life.

           

A swift end to Summer...? Let's hope not...

“But in nothing are swifts more singular than in their early retreat. They retire, as to the main body of them, by the tenth of August, and sometimes a few days sooner: and every straggler invariably withdraws by the twentieth”. Gilbert White  The Natural History of Selborne 1789

         He’s right, damn him. It’s the 7^th of August and I’ve just realized that I haven’t heard a swift in a few days and seen only one or two. As I said in a previous thread, few things symbolize summer more - in the city at least - than swifts screeching through the skies between the buildings. But does they’re parting symbolize the end of summer? In principle, not at all but it is a sign…

         What is it about summer anyway? What’s its significance? We grow up as children and associate summer with freedom. Freedom from school. Freedom from the humdrum or the routine. As adults, we associate it with freedom too. Unless it involves going to Center parks. But, yes, holidays or beer gardens or taking up tennis or whatever activity it may be that requires relative warmth and no rain. Either way, it’s about being more alive. Which makes sense. In summer everything else is alive. All of nature reveals itself. And this leads to my point. Prior to finding this particular Gilbert White quote regarding the swifts I was thinking about this summer’s continuing magnificence YET it’s imminent demise. So, discovering this particular one seemed pertinent to my thoughts. Ridiculous, you may say, I should be living in the moment, enjoying this glorious weather.  I am, of course, summer is the ultimate season to be in the moment, as it’s the season when we are freest to just “be”. We don’t need to worry about putting on a coat, turning on the heating, staying warm etc., all of which are necessary the rest of the year. It’s when we can get closest to nature. Another means by which we can just “be”. Of course, we have to stay cool in these hot summers, but that is ultimately a nice worry to have, unless you’re stuck on a London tube for too long. Moving into August, however, the last month of summer technically, it is inevitable, for me at least, that it’s on its way out. Truthfully, lamenting something's passing when it’s still here is rather dumb but I can’t help it. Whenever I think of August I feel a bit emotional, who knows why? Decades ago, when I was a football fan, August, the start of the season, was an exciting time. Pop songs were always good in August when I listened to pop songs. Maybe it’s just a nice time of year? It is often the nicest of the summer months but it’s been so splendid since May that it will do well to achieve that this year.

           Summers this hot, dry and long are slightly incongruous in this country. This is the green and pleasant land for a reason. Over two months of almost constant Mediterranean heat is an extraordinary thing, but it’s odd. And it’s also rare, unless the doomsday scenario proves otherwise. So let’s make the most of it. The petunias certainly are. They’re positively proclaiming the power and beauty of nature and the strength that summer gives. The tomatoes are building up a fair head of steam and there’s plenty of insects buzzing about. It’s this burst of life that I’m talking about. It literally gives me a buzz. Mosquitoes aside, which are a menace and rather psychotic here in North London. I remember as a kid, my uncle who lived in London at the time telling me about the mosquitoes in this part of the world. I didn't quite believe him. Growing up in Glasgow I thought mosquitoes only lived in Africa. My basil has grown beautifully but been destroyed but some pest or another, the lavender is attempting a comeback and the scabious remains the main draw for my small but loyal band of bees.

          The birds are quiet, they tend to be in August but there’s been a couple of new and welcome visitors. Frederico the frog now has a friend, or certainly some company. Time will tell if they become friends. The second frog appeared on Saturday night, ate something then disappeared behind a plant. Frogs are useful in the garden; they eat slugs amongst other things so make sure there’s always somewhere damp for them to spend time if you have no pond. The other visitor was a green bush cricket, a striking lime green beastie with big red eyes that seem to look straight at you. I had seen it earlier in the day when I trimmed a tree but it reappeared on Saturday night on the table and circulated several times around it before disappearing. Most amusing.

            So there it is. Who knows what further visitors and experiences are to occur this summer but I’m living in the moment either way.