Wild Lake Life

Here's a funny thing about the Fowler: They can't tell whether another toad is male or female, which makes mating difficult. The male toad has a special croak for when he's been mounted by another male. I'm going to resist making a crack about that.

This little guy, hiding under our shrubbery, is a Fowler's Toad (I think. He could be an American Toad, but the Fowler has a creamy belly, I've read. His belly looks creamy to me). The main difference between a frog and toad is the skin. A toad's skin is rough and warty, much like mine when I've forgotten to exfoliate. This toady also secretes a nasty poison when attacked. Wish I had that talent; it could come in handy.

Despite the abundance of rain, or maybe because of it, we're enjoying all kinds of wild life out here in the woods. The dragonflies are metamorphosing, which is quite a spectacle. I took this photo last weekend.

Today I stood in the mist and watched the swallows swoop over the spillway again. There's something mesmerizing about them.

Buckaroo is another of the wild animals on the lake. These days he prefers to romp around nakey bum, wearing only his cow-spotted rain boots. He can't go near the water without stripping, and he's learned to open the screen doors on his own and has endeavored to get himself some alone time on the beach. Fortunately we're not right on the water, and the screen doors have locks.

Sweet P is having some beach time in sunny California, and I have to admit I'm more than a squinch envious. I would love to update you on her travels, but when I call, all I get is, "Can't talk now, Mom. I'm visiting with. . . . "

To assuage my soggy soul, I've bought two plane tickets to California for Buckaroo and myself. We don't leave until September, but I've heard that the anticipation of pleasure is even more rewarding than pleasure itself.

Meanwhile we look forward to the return of Sweet P and Obo. We celebrated our one year anniversary of moving to Massachusetts in June, but I told R that it won't really feel like we've come full circle until the five of us are together again.