Lonnnnnnggggg. To which day am I referring? I don’t even remember anymore. It’s matured into a short week of long days since I started writing this post. I’m so tired I’m a zombie.
Actually no. Bleh. You couldn’t get me to eat cerveau if it were prepared by the finest chef in all of France.
Let’s just say I’m tiiierd. Luckily it’s now Friday and we can pause to take a breath. Then wonder where the weekend went and go back to work.
I missed some good photo opportunities this week, through leaving my camera in random inaccessible places. One such opportunity was the phenomenon of the frogs on the trail. Every year around this time the bike path and road near work are inundated with small frogs in the evenings: tiny ones, little ones, and, um, pairs of tiny and little. They look kind of like dried-up leaves from a few metres away, and their random distribution over the road makes them difficult to avoid with a bike or a car, so we tend to see a lot of squished ones too. The next morning the road and the path are clean and tidy, so there must be birds or scavenging animals benefiting from this arrangement.
This year someone’s put up signs: “Cyclists take care: frogs crossing.” Whether signs can make a difference to the frog mortality rate I doubt: the difficulty is not in understanding that your path is dotted with frogs; it’s more in getting around them without making a mistake or having one hop into your line at the last second. Nice thought, anyway.
The other evening I left late and it was dark, it was raining, and the frogs were out. I had left my camera in the lab so I didn’t take a picture. Luckily I had the foresight to take a picture of a frog in 2003:
That frog was dry, relative to the ones I saw the other day, but you get the idea. This one was a bit more covered in grass cuttings too. They’re not the prettiest of frogs, I find. But at this time of year, they seem to find each other pretty, and I guess that’s all that counts.