A quiet day. Sun. Blue sky. Birdsong.
On the dusty road to the shop there are the car-flattened, leathery remains of toads. They have tried to cross from water where they have grown from eggs, to tadpoles, to toadlets to toads. They spread out from their birth pools and eventually take singular paths.
This road must be close to a suitable, long-established pond. How many made it across? It is said their are fewer flat toads than in other years. Are there more road-aware, agile toads, or fewer available to be flattened?
The shallow roadside banks offer a mix of flowers, planted and wild. The irregularity of wild sown plants appeal. Scattered jewels for all to enjoy.
At lunch I hear that the nation has been exhorted to publicly applaud NHS staff at 20:00hrs this evening. I weep at this news, but am unsure why. No protective kit? No testing?
We text ‘good nights’. My sleep soon follows.