Ofttimes I am quite certain I’d rather not put my name to any photograph I’ve taken that I’m using. It was Rachael Ann Sand, the second-best editor over at MuddyUm (after Susan Brearley, of course!) who taught me not only HOW to do this but that it is de rigueur.
So I guess it is her fault.
Considering the equipment I use — which, somewhere high up on the list includes stupidity and stubbornness — it is often a miracle I get a photograph of my cat asleep in the sunshine to come out looking like a cat asleep. But at least my stupidity and stubbornness is of a better quality than my camera.
However, in this case, everything came together in a benighted moment, as it were. A dark, stormy night — oooooh! — a sudden crash — ahhh! — all drawing the cat’s attention and thus mine to the window and there it was, climbing away.
Why? Where to? Where from? We do have frogs, living in a bog as we do, and we also have what they eat — naturally — and whatever eats them, plus all the places they live — naturally, and I don’t speak frog, nor did I feel much like screaming through the window to ask.
But why this one, probably a tree frog, thought this window a tree is anyone’s guess.
Submitted, with my apologies for incompetence due in no small part to a cat screaming in my ear constantly. Thanks.