|One of my colleagues.|
One of the great joys of my garden are the frogs. They are always leaping ahead of me, appearing on a leaf or tomato as I look for what to harvest, or landing on my foot between hops. This little guy is at head height in my popcorn, enjoying the view. He and his compatriots sing a delightful song as evening comes, their chirping rolling from one end of the valley to the other and back again.