We’re not called The Croakery for nothin’

Amid the heavy downpours over the weekend, off shoots of hurricane Bill, a little visitor sat on my porch trying to dry off. Fed up, like the rest of us, about the lousy wet weekend, he decided enough was enough. Creeping ever close to the front door, wanting to come in for a cocktail, I’m sure.

After no invitation, he turned his back and hopped along.  Only later did Cobra Commander suggest that he was a guise of Boggy’s.*

Shelter from the seemingly never ending weekend rain, and i though toads liked it wet.

Shelter from the seemingly never ending weekend rain, and i though toads liked it wet.

*Boggy – the Frogman, dreamt up my Marie, who resides in the pond.

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