2016: a year with my camera

Puddle reflection | Wolves in LondonJust dropping by to tell you about an awesome new project I am doing in 2016: taking part in a (free!) online photography course for the whole of the year, called A Year with my Camera and run by Emma Davies.

Every Thursday, the participants get an email from Emma with some tips and advice and a project to complete over the course of the week.

There’s a Facebook group and an Instagram hashtag (#ayearwithmycamera) to showcase your pics and, seemingly, thousands of participants to give you feedback!

grass

I love this idea because I’m hoping it will give me the shove I need to get out there and take photos (with my proper camera) far more often than I manage at the moment. I plan to carve an hour a week to go and take a few snaps and just focus on improving one thing each time.

The first project this week is to choose something to “collect” over the year – an item you will photograph frequently to create a collection by the end of December.

I’m torn between a few different thoughts. The dilemma boils down to whether I stick with something I already do and try to improve that or whether I pick something new that I would like to do more of?

In the first camp: all things botanical, probably with the macro lens, which I already do quite a bit but would like to improve more. (I dream of creating beautiful images like this by @zuzu365 – whose whole feed is full of stunning botanical photography – and this by @thislittlecorner which uses the branches in the foreground to give extra interest to that stunning background…)

In the second camp, I have seen quite a few awesome puddle reflection photos recently on Instagram (@camerashymomma is my absolute favourite for this with her #creatingliquidlandscapes series) and I’d love to try and get some great shots of my parts of London reflected in puddles.

Hawthorn | Wolves in LondonPuddles | Wolves in London

The problem with trying something completely new with the puddle shots is that I simply might not get the opportunity to keep that up regularly (if it’s not raining, or if I don’t go anywhere new with interesting reflections in that week). But then just sticking to botanicals isn’t really stretching me to try out anything new and surely it’s a good idea to take the opportunity to stretch myself?!

I went out this morning to get started and decided that, for now, I will photograph both of them and see how it pans out over the course of the year.

January sky | Wolves in London

I will mostly be taking part over on Instagram, I think, so do follow along there if you’d like: @wolvesinlondon. (The Facebook group is terrifying me at the moment, as it seems to be full of “blippers” a term I had never come across before, but have discovered is someone who posts a photo every single day on a website called blipfoto, and who seem – to me – to be essentially as good as professional photographers already and keep sharing these utterly amazing and technically perfect shots, so I am feeling a bit intimidated of putting up my own distinctly more amateur take…)

Anyway, if you also fancy joining in, then you can sign up here: A Year with my Camera.

And do drop me a comment to let me know if you’re taking part (and especially if you’re on that terrifying Facebook group too, ha ha, I’d love to see some friendly names out there!)

Cabbage flower, deconstructed

Cabbage flower head | Wolves in LondonCabbage flower dying | Wolves in LondonCabbage flower stalk | Wolves in LondonDead leaf tip | Wolves in LondonDeconstructed cabbage flowerNo, not the name of the winning dish in a Masterchef final, but rather my growing obsession with endlessly photographing lovely dead crap.

There is a new market stall at the end of our road selling flowers on Saturdays and Sundays for pretty bargainous prices and I just can’t resist when I walk by.

I bought a nice bouquet a few weeks ago, including a single stem of a purple cabbage flower. I’m a big fan of the cabbage flower (I had one in my homemade wedding bouquet even) and I can never resist buying one if I see them.

This one lasted for a week or so, and then the leaves started to turn brown, shrivel up and drop off. But still, I couldn’t contemplate parting with it, because it became even more beautiful than before. Just look at these amazing veined patterns! The transition from purple to brown! The way the leaves have curled up as they’ve dehydrated!

I told myself I might as well hold onto the leaves until I had taken a photo, but now that I’ve done that, where will they go? Currently, there is just a big pile of brown dead leaves sitting in front of the TV. Not, it must be said, displaying them to their best purposes.

The hubby keeps trying to put them in the bin, but I feel sure I could use them for something. Something. But just what?!

On the blog: plans for 2016

String of pearls plantI didn’t go to the inaugural Blogtacular in 2014 (I was busy pushing a baby out of my lady parts at the time) but I saw one quote from it repeated time and again:

“You will always have more ideas than time… …and that’s alright.”

It resonated with me as much as it clearly resonated with everyone else too. Phew! I thought. It’s not just me…

But 2015 on the blog was the year where I had lots of ideas but so little time that, actually, it didn’t really feel alright.

I started the year bursting with plans: ideas for new blog series, thoughts for fascinating articles, inspiration for stunning photos and oh, y’know, hundreds of amazing genre-busting things I was going to do with my blog. (Okay, that last part is a slight overstatement, but you get the drift.)

But my time felt more pinched than ever before and the huge majority of plans fell by the wayside.

So 2016, I hope, will be the year to resurrect some old ideas and start some new ones too. What can you hope to see on Wolves in London if you drop by in the next 12 months?

Gardening

I started my Gardening A-Z last January, full of excitement and with the intention of writing a fortnightly article explaining something about gardening. I got as far as, erm, the letter D. Not, I hasten to add, for lack of ideas or things to write about, but simply because I was finding it really hard to take a photo I could use for my article on “earthing up”…

I plan to resurrect (and hopefully finish!) the series this year, which I still feel as excited by 12 months later from the original plans.

Also, in a few days time, I am starting the second year of my garden design diploma. Last year was all about plants, this year is all about the “principles and practice” of design itself. I’m thinking of running a series about designing your own garden (in fact, I have had the first few articles written for a few months now) so if you’re hoping to overhaul your garden in 2016, look out for my thoughts on inspiration, designing, planning and planting your space.

Craft

Well, 2015 was not a year of great crafting, it must be said. But my recent reacquaintance with my knitting needles led to a flurry of hats knitted up before Christmas and a jumper for the sproglet is currently in process.

Friends, I must share both photos and chats about such things with you far more often!

But not just knitting; I finally have a permanent desk in our spare room where I can work and sew. The sewing machine is out of the attic and I am determined to get back in the sewing vibe again in 2016.

Wolves in London at home

We’ve been in our little Victorian terrace in SE London for more than three years now and have been almost permanently renovating that whole time. And yes, it’s true, we’re still not finished (I must get round to painting that hallway still) but the majority of the rooms are more or less there. And long-term readers will know that I’ve been meaning to share some room tours for a while now, so that is definitely on the cards for the springtime, once there is actually a bit of light back in the house again.

And the last one is definitely the hardest to achieve…

A bit more Sabrina

I realised a while ago that all of my favourite bloggers regularly include such amazing things as… ….photos of themselves!  I know, who would have thought it? Imagine reading a blog and actually have more than a vague awareness of what the blogger writing it looks like. Some people I have seen, the revolutionaries we might call them, even have photos of themselves in their sidebar! Futuristic or what?!

I mock, of course, because I think I have only three photos of myself on this blog anywhere*, and it’s something I have been meaning to address for a while now. When I’m reading other blogs I like to know who is talking to me, rather than just a faceless collection of words, so it’s only fair to assume others might want the same from me.

Why so few photos here so far (an average of one for every year I’ve been writing the blog, ha ha)?

It’s not just that I never think I look nice in any photo ever, but also because there is nobody around who ever takes a photo of me. I am always the one with the camera.

So this year, I am determined to have a crack with some self-portraits using my tripod and the self-timer on my camera. Cue much awkward posing and discomfort, I am sure.

Sooo, them’s the plans. We’ll see how many I manage to follow through with, but if any of that sounds like your cuppa, then please do visit back again. And of course, finally, a big thanks for checking in here and reading my frequently overly-long thoughts on life, the universe and everything. May 2016 be a wonderful year for you!

*Fact-finders, there is one on my About page (which is taken from my wedding), one with me wearing my homemade maxi skirt, and one of me pootling about in Hong Kong which is now more than four years old.

The annual Christmas blog post

Just popping in very quickly this Christmas Eve to wish you a wonderfully happy Christmas and an excellent start to 2016 and to share a few pics with you of the merry-making that’s been going on around here.

The Christmas bug was late to bite this year and so, unlike past years where I set myself the impossible task to craft my way to some sort of Christmas nirvana (if you’ll excuse the mixed religions that would involve), I did very little until December 23rd.

Homemade wreathHomemade wreath

First of all, I put our wreath up, a gorgeous creation made by my mother-in-law and niece, of foraged ivy and fir trees (and because I have something of a dried orange peel mania going on this year, I couldn’t resist adding a few of those as well). Excuse the fact you can only see a small part of the wreath, but I couldn’t bare to show you our really ugly front door. A new (old) one has been ordered for January and I can’t wait to get rid of this 1960s dark-brown-stain monstrosity.

Homemade gingerbread house

But mostly, yesterday was a flurry of cooking and baking: I pre-cook everything except the turkey, which saves Christmas day peeling and chopping and so on. I remember, as a child, feeling rather put out that I had to help peel sprouts or chop carrots on Christmas morning! Christmas morning, I ask you, which should surely be reserved for opening presents and eating chocolate and nothing else…

Ridiculous though that may be, I now always try and cook everything that I possibly can ahead of time.

It was our first year of making a gingerbread house and I was pretty pleased with the results. Definitely one to be repeated in future years…

brown paper wrapped presents

Presents were wrapped, in a decorous and tasteful manner that I think is obligatory for all bloggers these days. Yawn, yawn, yet more brown paper and string and random bits of foliage stuck on. Actually, I was busy snipping away the rosemary from the fridge, when I remembered it was meant to be saved for the gravy, so I had to restrain myself to a spare sprig per parcel.

Paper chains

What else? Hmmm, oh I stuck some sprigs of ivy around the place and got our spare room all ready for my Mum’s arrival later on today. And this morning, the four of us made a paper chain: the hubby cutting the paper strips, the sproglet punching the holly shapes and me stapling it together. While we all simultaneously read a book to the littlest to keep him entertained…

Now, we’re heading out to my sister’s for a Christmas Eve family lunch, with my Mum, all three of my siblings, their respective spouses and three nieces and nephews. It promises to be a noisy, boisterous, booze-filled do, if previous years are anything to go by. Whatever you’re up to, today and tomorrow, I hope you have a wonderful time. Thank you so much for reading here in 2015 I’ll be back in the New Year with more of the same!

Huge kisses and hugs,

Sabrina xxx

A foray into knitting for cash

Hand knitted bobble hats | Wolves in London Hand knitted bobble hats | Wolves in LondonI’m a member of a couple of Facebook Mum’s groups. You know the kind – they’re started for people who live in a particular area, to sell and buy second hand kids stuff, and gradually everyone within a 20 mile radius has joined and there are 5,000 Mums chatting away non-stop about why the kids don’t sleep, what on earth that weird rash is, and occasionally selling and buying things as well.

The other day, I saw a request on one of the groups from a Mum who wanted someone to knit a couple of ear-flapped bobble hat for her twins. She had the pattern and the yarn, but just realised that she didn’t have the time to make them herself. Was there anyone out there who could, and if so, how much would it cost?

I watched the update for a while, checking on the comments coming in, assuming that someone else would jump at the chance.

But nobody did.

I’ve been meaning to get back into knitting recently, not having picked up the needles since I made the sproglet’s cardie last winter, and I ummed and ahhed about whether to say I could do it.

Because, you know, on the one hand it’s a bit of money for knitting, which I enjoy doing. But then again, I long ago worked out that there was no way in the world you could make any money hand knitting anything, unless you had a nearby coterie of millionaires who wanted to buy from you.

But in the end, I left a comment saying I could do it, and the Mum accepted.

I also linked to my Ravelry page, just so she could see that I did know how to knit.

And then the other responses came flooding in. Within a few hours, I’d been asked to knit a total of eight hats. Eight!

In a glow of happiness at the nice things everyone was saying about my knits, I agreed to all of them, saying that I would just have to figure out prices. (And half thinking about what an incredible knitting empire I was going to set up, and how I would spend my days making these hats, which would almost certainly be picked up by Liberty within a few months and they would pay me millions to knit away, sitting in front of fire. Because, you know me, that’s just how I am…)

Hand knit baby hat
My gorgeous niece, modelling the hat for me, pre-bobble attachment

Hand knitted bobble hats | Wolves in London

But after that, everything started to get a bit stressful. I decided to do a trial knit of the hat in question to make sure it was relatively easy to make. I assumed it would take me a couple of hours. It took more than five.

(Partly, my knitting speed is probably a bit slow after a break, but it is also just fairly slow knitting a 1×1 rib for a while at the beginning…)

I’d originally thought of asking for £20 per hat, which already seemed a bit steep to me, but I realised that with the cost of yarn (£5-£7 per hat) I would then be making the grand total of £3 an hour.

While I do love knitting, having to knit eight hats relatively quickly at that rate just didn’t really seem like something worth adding to a life where I already feel a little squeezed for time.

So, I asked the next lady for £22.50 per hat. Tentatively, and slightly embarrassed. She immediately replied, saying she would be happy to pay more. Phew, I thought, this knitting malarkey might just pay off. Time to stop fretting quite so much…

The next person wanted two balaclavas for her grandsons. Buoyed by the last response, and knowing this would involve even more knitting, I asked for £30, figuring I was upping my hourly rate to around £5, which was starting to make it vaguely worthwhile, but obviously still less than pretty much any other job. Within seconds I had an embarrassed response saying that she hadn’t thought it would be that much and she couldn’t afford it.

I felt awful.

Anyway, to cut the rest of the story short, I’ve done little but worry about costs for the last four days and am once again back to the realisation that there is no way to make money by hand knitting, without feeling like a total money-grubber by asking people to part with a lot of money for a knitted item.

Sigh.

It’s my fault, of course, for not having worked out a price and given it upfront. But now I’m putting off contacting the rest of the people who’ve asked for hats, not knowing if pitching at £25 will be just what they expected or wildly more than they had imagined.

Should I go lower, so they’re not disappointed, and just commit myself to knitting like crazy every evening til Christmas, or should I stick at that amount and simply try not to worry if they say no?

Any thoughts gratefully appreciated!

Update: I wrote this a week ago and then left it sitting in my drafts for some reason. I have since finished the first pair of hats, a few pics of which are dotted throughout this post. I worried endlessly about whether the person who’d asked for them would be happy with them. She seemed to like them when she picked them up, but didn’t fall to the floor in wonder and amazement, saying “My god! You’re the greatest knitter in the world, how can it possibly be that your fair hands have created something so wondrous and elegant as these perfectly-knitted hats?” which I think would have been the only response to calm my concerns about various things like size of bobble and evenness of stitches and whether the turn up was a little too tight etc etc.

I also approached the next person on the list who had asked for a hat and said it would be £25. She replied and said that, actually, she was moving to Australia so probably didn’t need the hats after all, which seemed a rather unlikely response, having asked for me to make them a mere day before, so I suspect that she thought it was too much money.

So, I am currently frantically knitting away at the next pair, to try and finish them before tomorrow and I have spent most of the past few days worrying that the yarn I’ve used isn’t soft enough and that she is going to be disappointed with the end results. I then have one more to knit — for a friend — and after that I will put away my needles for any attempts at making money and use them only for knitting for family and friends as presents.

The hat, though, I should say, is pretty awesome and the pattern is great. If you’re a knitter and are in the market for a bobble hat with earflaps then I recommend it! More details over on Ravelry for anyone interested: Earflap helmet hat.

Joining up with Yarn Along

Ai Weiwei at the Royal Academy: possibly one of the best things I’ve ever seen in a gallery

Ai Weiwei at the RAOne of these days, I’ll become one of those organised and useful bloggers. The kind who share Christmas tutorials in November, so you’ve plenty of time to make the craft before the big day. The kind who don’t have photographs sitting on their hard drives for months on end before writing the accompanying blog post. The kind who go to amazing, inspiring art exhibitions on their opening weekend and tell you about them when there’s still months left to book a ticket.

But, erm, I’m not yet that kind of blogger, I’m afraid, and so it is I am posting about the utterly amazing and unmissable Ai Weiwei exhibition a mere few days before it closes (at the end of this weekend, Sunday December 13th).

On the other hand, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about it in the first place, since it seems to have been the big ticket show of the year; the one that’s been thronging with people since it opened.

I visited last week, on a wonderfully sunny, though bitterly cold day.

I usually find that the higher my expectations of something, the more likely I will walk away disappointed, but, despite my already high expectations, I was absolutely blown away by the show.

The art was beautiful, which is a brilliant start. So much of it tactile, made of wood or marble; natural visceral elements. The construction was also awe-inspiring. Ai Weiwei works not only with materials that have a long history in China, but also with craftsmen who use traditions that date back centuries.

Stools at Ai Weiwei Stools at Ai Weiwei

Inspecting one of my favourite pieces, the circle made of three-legged stools, which on first sight I thought were probably glued together, I realised that a leg of each stool became a leg of its neighbour as well. The entire piece, in fact, carefully joined into one.

Fragments by Ai Weiwei at the RA, LondonFragments by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London Fragments by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London

Or the huge sculpture, Fragments, made from salvaged beams from demolished Qing dynasty temples: the sculpture takes up the whole room and you can wander through its arches. Apparently random as you see it from the room but from above, it makes up a map of China, though – of course – you can’t see that viewpoint in the gallery.

Bicycle chandelier by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London

Also breathtaking, the final piece is a huge chandelier, made from crystals and bicycles. The crystal (and chandeliers) used by the wealthy. The bicycle, of course, the chosen method of transport for many in China’s vast cities.

What I hadn’t necessarily been expecting (partly because I hadn’t read up on it in advance of visiting…) was to be so moved by the politics of the work.

I knew, of course, that Ai Weiwei is a political dissident, detained frequently in his own country and not allowed to enter the UK to curate the show. But I knew little about the specifics behind those stories.

Straight by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London

Straight by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London Straight by Ai Weiwei at the RA, London

My favourite room was the one housing Straight, a sinuous giant sculpture made of straight rods, laid out in lines, the end of the rods creating a curving shape that moved throughout it.

The accompanying videos told the story behind the piece. Earthquakes in Sichuan province in 2008 brought down many buildings, but it was the schools that were the worst affected. As government-built properties, they had suffered from shoddy building work, lack of foundations and poor building materials (bribes and corruption said to be to blame). Thousands of children died, but the government refused to release a full list of names.

In all of the buildings, mangled rods, supposed to protect the integrity of the buildings, were left sticking out.

Ai Weiwei gathered and bought the rods as scrap, and his team painstakingly straightened every single one, so that they looked as they would have done before being used. They are arranged on the floor of the room with a full list of the names of everyone who had died written on the walls.

Powerful stuff.

More info

  • The show is open until the end of the weekend and — due to the overwhelming numbers of people wanting to visit — the gallery is open 24 hours a day for Saturday and Sunday. So, if you still want to visit and you’re close to London, then get over to the RA! More info on their website here: Ai Weiwei exhibition.
  • They also have a fascinating round up of 13 of Ai Weiwei’s most important works.

Over on Pinterest: houseplant heaven

Houseplant heaven | Wolves in London
Helsinki botanical garden © Ukkonooa

Since joining in with Urban Jungle Bloggers these past few months, I’ve been seriously bitten with the houseplant bug.

I’ve got to confess, for a long time I thought houseplants were a bit 70s. A bit naff. A bit macramé pot holders (though they, of course, are now massively back in fashion…) And, most of all, a haven for endless dust.

These days, though, I’ve got a “more is more” philosophy on plants in houses. My collection of ferns in the bathroom has outgrown its spot and been moved to new positions throughout my home. A recently acquired hoard of succulents sits on the mantelpiece. And upstairs, I’ve got some lovely little tillandsia in glass baubles, waiting to be strung from an old branch.

Houseplant heaven | Wolves in London
© Decorating with Plants, Time Life Books 1978 via Supreme interiors
Houseplant heaven | Wolves in London
© Sunset ideas for Hanging Gardens, 1974 via The Secret Garden blog

But not enough! Not enough! I crave ever more interesting and new ways to introduce houseplants (the weirder, the better) to my relatively dark and small Victorian terrace.

I’ve been pinning away some of my favourite images for inspiration to a new board, Houseplant Heaven. Do go over and take a look if a green indoor oasis is your style too, you’ll find the photos in this post, plus many many more…

Frosty mornings and blue skies

Plane on a winters day | Wolves in London

I do love an overnight frost and sun the next day. If only for the amazing ice shapes you can get out in the garden.

Cracked ice | Wolves in London

Frozen leaf | Wolves in LondonFrozen bubbles | Wolves in London

I snapped a few last weekend, delirious with excitement to see the sunshine. (While the poor old hubby was working away on the pond removal job…)

A few apples failed to fall off the trees and are just hanging on and rotting away. They’re irresistible to the parakeets from the park, who swing by, shrieking away, and grab a few bites, before retiring to a neighbour’s birch tree, which is their preferred resting place. We should probably count ourselves lucky they don’t like to perch here.

Rotting apples | Wolves in London rotting apple rotting applesIn the beds, my hardy old wallflower (Erysimum ‘Bowles Mauve’) is still putting out new flowers, even now in December. The Mexican daisies (Erigeron karvinskianus) are hanging on strong too; they’ve increased hugely over the last year and are dripping over the low stone wall looking as wonderful as I had imagined they would.

Wallflower | Wolves in London Mexican fleabane | Wolves in London

We’re taking the opportunity of the pond removal to get rid of an old, brown, shaggy, overgrown conifer that was planted behind it, and the great streams of ivy that were growing up it. We’ve battled ivy before, and I know now that the only possible answer is glysophate on the stump, but I really hate to use chemicals in the garden. Still, it’s either that or spend the rest of our weekends endlessly cutting it back in the hope it finally gives up.

It’s great for the birds, of course, and I love the look of the amazing seedheads, but it soon gets a stranglehold and kills off all its neighbours.

Ivy berries | Wolves in London

The magnolia in the front garden already has those adorable fluffy buds, and it reminds me that soon enough Spring will be here once again. I’m not really a fan of winter, I realise as I get older. I love the clear, crisp, blue sky days, of course, and the rare moment of snow, but the lack of sunshine really gets me down and I feel increasingly lethargic and sluggish as weeks pass by with only grey skies and rain. I’m sure it’s something to do with age, I don’t remember giving two shits about lack of sunshine in my 20s. I was probably too busy going out drinking in trendy clubs and sleeping in late. Sigh.

Magnolia buds | Wolves in London

Lovely dead crap

Dying flower | Wolves in LondonIt’s possible I’ve become a little bit too obsessed with dying flowers.

My housework abilities are a little on the lax side (I say, with some element of understatement) so it is pretty much guaranteed that if I have flowers in my house at any point, I will spend a good fortnight with dying flowers in my house.

In other words, at most points in time there is a little collection of decaying flowers sitting around somewhere.

Dying flower | Wolves in London

Luckily for me, I’m completely entranced by the process of watching a flower slowly decay and shrivel away to nothing. So much so that I couldn’t help get a few photos of this one, shedding petals and turning brown in my hallway.

Dying flower | Wolves in London

If you share this slightly odd penchant, check out the hashtag #lovelydeadcrap on Instagram. There are some beauties there to steal your heart right away from fresh living plantlife.

Release the frogs!

Frog | Wolves in LondonThese past few weekends we’ve been digging out the pond from the bottom of our garden to convert it to flower bed.

I’d been agonising about what to do with the pond (as is my wont) for a good few years. On the one hand, the pond isn’t very safe for the kids, is under three apple trees so spends a large portion of the year full of rotting apples, and leaves a huge swathe of bed behind it completely unreachable and, therefore, covered in bindweed and more rotting apples.

One the other hand, it’s the home of huge numbers of frogs, which we all love.

Finally, the first argument won over, and so — with plans to put a new, smaller pond in place somewhere that’s not under loads of trees — we’ve decided to dig this one out.

Job one: removing the water and re-housing the resident frogs. Which was wildly, vastly more fun than I could have possibly imagined.

We thought we had a few frogs in there. If pushed to pick a number I probably would have settled on five. But, slowly removing all the water in bucketloads, we discovered about 30, including a couple of soon-to-be Mums, their bellies fat with eggs.

The boys and I watched on, impressed, as my husband caught them all in his hands and put them into a bucket of pond water. And then we set off, the four of us, down to the lake in the local park to set them all free for a new home.

The littlest was especially impressed with the frogs, pointing at them and yelling “Rog! Rog! Touch! Touch!” so we soon developed the routine that the hubby would get a frog from the bucket, hand it to the littlest, who then set it free beyond the fence of the pond.

(Where they mostly sat around looking perplexed for an alarmingly long time and I worried that the heron was going to swoop down and eat them at any second.)

By the third trip, we had gathered a bit of a crowd to watch the frog-releasing exploits, and even the sproglet and I gathered up enough bravery to also hold and release a frog of our own. We made a few new friends, had some good frog banter, and my husband was even called “a modern David Attenborough” — which I think made his day week year as Attenborough is his number one hero.

All in all, the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

NB In all the excitement, I completely failed to take any photos of the frog-handling / frog-releasing so instead you’ve got an old photo from a few years back of the frogs in the pond as it used to be (you know, in case you’ve forgotten what a frog looks like while you’re reading this…)