The ornamental pond fills with pillows of frogspawn. The black dots begin to wriggle in their capsules and the aliens emerge in black swarms of activity. Little buds appear at the rear of their body and become their two back legs. Their tails begin to shrink and as their front legs take shape, the spacemen have mutated into proto-frogs – perfect but tiny.
I’m playing with some froglets. I’ve found them a boat – a flat topped log that is heavy enough to glide through the water when I give it a push. Several frogs are sitting on the deck and there is one clinging onto the prow looking back at me – with his legs dangling in the water. The boat sails across the pond and hits the vertical stone side with a thud. The frog at the prow has lost a leg – there doesn’t seem to be any blood and the frog’s face looks the same as before, but where there was a leg there is now a tiny stump.
I run away.