I have always had a thing for frogs. They sit in tree hollows by the beach hut and often pop up on the plot. Howard takes spawn home with his girls, returns and re-wilds them when the frogs grow legs. There are two ponds on the allotment site. One has long been trouble. It regularly leaked into a neighboring plot. We pitched in one day to fix it. We lifted the marsh marigold and yellow flags and found lots of sleepy frogs. We carefully moved them to the next-door pond though I worried a little about overcrowding.
We scooped out the muddy water, we cleared, we relined and refilled. I scoured the site for branches and mossy broken wood to soften the edges. We ate winter allotment soup, then stood around and felt satisfied.
The pond soon leaked again. I tried not to take it personally.
We started again and found dozens of new holes. They were made (I think) by a heron hunting for frogs. We relined the ground with old carpet and a new double layer of rubber. We replaced the plants. I remade the woody edge.
It stopped the leaks, but for the first time there was no frogspawn there last year. In the middle of March the ponds were still covered in ice and snow. I broke it up, but was a little worried. A week later as warmth kicked in I sowed the year’s first salads. I checked on the pond for primroses and other signs of life. The surface shifted as I came close. There was a sea of spawn and darting movement. The pond frogs have returned. I have been reprieved. All is right in the wild allotment world. Time to think about summer peas and beans, and to get on with gardening. gardening.
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