The world in our pond

A frosty morning and a weedy pond. And there, weary of circling the sun, a tiny planet having a rest.

CB had the cheek to blip me while in the garden hunting for this. But she's ended up with a more flattering portrait of me than usual (which is here), so I forgive her, and to show I bear no ill will, tonight I will cook her pickled frogs' legs on a bed of sauteed pond-weed with a pond-water reduction and a deliquescing water-lily leaf foam.