Chips With Everything

Went for a blipwalk to inspect the muddy puddle that is the centre of our frogspawn production (behind the picket fence). Unfortunately, despite the ministrations of Mr. Flum and his ex-colleagues' attempts to restore the flow of water that feeds the pond, it is no longer a muddy puddle but mud with a few blobs of spawn quietly expiring in the heat. I wish I had a pond to rescue some.

There were interesting noises coming from the park, these turned out to be from the council tractor delivering a fresh supply of wood chips to the playground which was busy with children enjoying the afternoon sunshine.