Title dilemma

"Froggy Bottom"? Or "Frogs 'n' Roses"?

Rose

We are having a cold snap. Just before this cold snap (which started on Tuesday) we still had one frog left in the garden, but now it's gone. I called it Rose. (Because it was the Last Frog of Summer.)


It has probably underground now. Did you know that these little guys bury themselves and hibernate during the winter? I didn't, until one year I decided to put in some spring bulbs, and accidentally dug one up. I held the limp, clammy little body in my hand, and said, "Oh, poor wee thing, it's dead..." and then its leg twitched, and it went from deep hibernation to the discovery of flight in a split second.

It probably was a fairly traumatic experience for the frog, but it was for me, too. I have never planted bulbs again.

Thwarted

I am going mad. It is the end of semester and I am frantically trying to grade, and being thwarted at every turn. Yesterday things kept happening, and I was busy with other routine chores, and then late yesterday afternoon I had finally settled down to do some serious marking of student papers when the phone rang. It was my brother. I haven't spoken to him for a long time, so felt obliged to continue talking to him even when we'd already said goodbye twice, I had run out of things to say, and he was starting to repeat himself. It was lovely to talk to him, but his timing was horrible. When I finally put the phone down it was time for dinner.

To make matters worse, I have caught a cold. After dinner I remembered to take my medicine, took it, and almost immediately felt sleepy. I don't usually take cold medicine, but I am trying to suppress the symptoms so I can get some work done. This is obviously not working. I went to bed right after writing this. (It is now Sunday.)

But it was not just because I am sleepy. I had had enough for the day. I am not sure what I had had enough of, because I hadn't achieved much, but perhaps it was just that I had had enough of not achieving much.

But on another topic, as I am taking a break from grading, let me tell you about my embarrassing new mobile phone ringtone. Perhaps you remember the frogs I had before, as my ringtone. I hate ringtones, usually, and had recorded the frogs down at the paddy field on the corner so that I could have a sound I liked. That worked worked well. The frogs were not very loud, but just loud enough, and I've been using them for a year. I usually have my phone set on silent mode anyway, but on the rare occasions I didn't, and my phone rang during class, or in a quiet bookstore, or somewhere, everybody was puzzled except me. The frogs worked PERFECTLY.

They continued to work perfectly until summer rolled round again, and the frogs started up again down at the paddy field. Recently, whenever I've been expecting a call or message and had the phone on, I've been scrabbling for it every time I hear frogs. I was scrabbling for my phone far too often, even when it was in silent mode. The real frogs down at the paddy field were confusing me. They don't sing all the time. They start and stop.

So I decided to change my ringtone, and a friend sent me some birdsongs I might like. They were lovely, and I was very pleased with them. I chose the song of the hototogisu (Japanese cuckoo – click on number 10 to hear its song).

I've had my new ringtone for about three weeks now, but for some reason I cannot get used to it. I just can't seem to remember that I have changed my ringtone. I still jump up to find my phone when I hear frogs, and when the hototogisu starts singing I stare around the place like an idiot, looking for the bird. I do this for AGES before realizing that the song is coming from my own bag, or pocket. It is embarrassing, especially when I am in the middle of a complicated conversation with one of the administrative staff at work. I felt like such an idiot.

How long does it take to get used to a new ringtone if you hardly ever use it anyway? I am thinking of restoring the frogs.

Unexpected leisure

It's been lovely to be home to enjoy the beautiful weather. Today I aired the bedding, did several loads of washing, and watched a movie, Kenny. I LOVED this movie. It was utterly charming.

I watched a movie yesterday, too. (I have a lot of movies I have had for a while and never watched.) Yesterday I watched Samsara. That, too, was gripping, but in an entirely different way. Also, the scenery is stunningly beautiful.

Perhaps I'll watch another movie tomorrow. I am rather enjoying my swine flu vacation. I think the schools and universities should stay closed for another week, just to be sure. I have a lot more movies I want to watch, and besides, I haven't started catching up on my paperwork yet.

(The Man tells me that they've just reported the first case in Tokyo.)

Another reason it is nice to be home is the smell. The honeysuckle may not be a particularly beautiful flower, but when it is blooming the scent is almost overwhelming.


In other news, a little frog spent the afternoon sitting on the handle of an old garden trowel.

Spot the frog

Here's a hint:


"Are you looking at me?"

Garden, up close

Yesterday I decided it was time to experiment with the camera lens I was talked into buying last year in Malaysia. It was expensive, but not as expensive as most macro lenses, and the guy in the shop managed to convince me it was the best thing since sliced bread. He had one himself, he said, and it was fantastic.

I had tried using it a bit once or twice, without very good results, and told The Man I thought I'd made a mistake buying it. His response was that I just hadn't learned how to use it properly, and it was probably fine. Yesterday I experimented in our garden, which is pretty scruffy, but with good spots. It seemed to me that a macro lens was the best thing to use – I could show the good bits, close up, and miss the scruffy bits.

I think I might be getting the hang of my new lens.

Here is the tree peony, blooming extravagantly outside our front door. Our tree peony is a few twigs in a pot most of the year, but then at this time of year it suddenly produces enormous pink flowers. It used to produce one. Then it became two. This year it was three, but in this picture you can only see two. This photo was taken with my ordinary lens.

And this is one of the flowers close up, taken with my new lens:


I spotted a ladybird on the bridal veil (thank you Kenju, for the name!), so decided to photograph that next. I didn't notice the aphids when I was taking this picture. It was only when I got the picture on the computer that I saw what the ladybird was up to:


Yummy!

(This is why gardeners like ladybirds.)


When I was about to go inside I spotted my first frog of the season, well-disguised on the wall next to some dead ivy. (Dead because I'd chopped it to stop it from strangling the rose, which is not blooming yet.)


I do not regret buying the new lens, now, and you can expect a few more close-up pictures from me in the future.

Ribbet (ribbet ribbet ribbet)

The other day I was in a bookstore, up on the third floor, when I suddenly heard this sound.



That was surprising, to say the least. I looked around wildly, trying to figure out where the frogs could be. It took a couple of moments to realize that the sound was coming from my bag, and to remember that I had changed the ringtone on my phone to this sound file after recording it one evening down by the paddy field. I usually have my phone set to silent, and had forgotten.

It is not a very loud recording, and is not really suitable for a ringtone if you actually want to hear it, but that's all right because most of the time I don't. In any case, it turned out to be the perfect volume for a quiet bookstore. Only a couple of people noticed it. They glanced around, looking vaguely puzzled, and then when it stopped they went back to their browsing.

The frog chorus is what we hear at night after the paddy field is flooded, if our bedroom window is open.

What's climbing YOUR trellis?

And here's another one, because it is, after all, the Year of the Frog.

What's in the garden at this time of year

Fleg

Yesterday I had my very low level students at the women's university writing answers to some questions in the textbook. One of the questions was,

Do you like your house? Why or why not?

One girl had written.

No. Because fleg.

This was puzzling, and I asked what she meant.

There were a lot of fleg, she told me, then switched to Japanese. They were EVERYWHERE. They were clinging to the screen doors when she came home. When she had a shower, they were often in the bathroom, and sometimes jumped and surprised her. They even got into her bedroom, and into cupboards, leaping out when you opened the doors. They said kero kero all the time. It was kimochi warui, she told us, dramatically, and the rest of the class shuddered and agreed.

Eventually, when she had finished her story, I told her the correct word in English.

I never did get around to asking her where she lives, but I'm told that this problem is quite common in mountainside areas. But I don't think they are kimochi warui. I think they are cute. We get them in our garden.

Besides, I told her, they probably eat mosquitoes. That makes them her FRIENDS.

My students think I'm weird, and I think they are unnecessarily squeamish.

He's reading my lips!

I didn't realize my computer even had a microphone until I loaded up this, clicked 'allow,' and started talking.

That was pretty funny.

KaBOOOOOM! (Whoop! whoop! whoop!)

We just had a great big thunderstorm. Three times the thunder was so shatteringly loud that the alarm went off in the car parked next door. It is an interesting sound effect.

KaBOOOOOM! (Whoop! whoop! whoop!)

When I hadn't heard the thunder for a while I turned the computer on again. While the computer was still starting up, there was another KaBOOOOOM! (Whoop! whoop! whoop!).

I just about jumped out of my skin.

But you can't turn off a computer that is in the middle of starting up, except by pulling the plug. I wasn't willing to do that, so I let it continue. That was twenty minutes ago and there hasn't been another KaBOOOOOM! (Whoop! whoop! whoop!) yet, so it's probably safe now. At least I hope so.

After the first thunderclap of this storm, which wasn't so loud, the rain started, and just after that I heard my first frog of the season. I guess spring has really arrived. We're having wild and windy weather, and the frogs are singing.

Well, the frogs WERE singing. They seem to have stopped again. Perhaps those really big KaBOOOOOM! (Whoop! whoop! whoop!)s were too scary for them, and they decided to hibernate a little longer.

Did you know that tree frogs hibernate by burying themselves in earth? Did I mention that before? That was something I didn't know until I dug one up in the garden one year. It was a sad and somewhat revolting discovery, and I held the little dead frog in my hand and wondered how on earth it had ended up buried in my garden. As I was peering at it closely, one of its legs twitched.

That wasn't a very nice experience, for me or for the frog. It can't be pleasant to go straight from hibernation to the discovery of flight. Things should be arranged a little better than that, I think. When frogs bury themselves in your garden they should leave little markers, so you can know where not to dig.

But since they don't, I have no spring bulbs. It's too risky.

(Oooh, the thunder is coming back. Time to unplug.)