Tragedy in 10,000 acts

The frogspawn is hatching into tadpoles, one by one at present, but soon they'll all be bursting in a frenzy like popcorn in a saucepan. I crouched down in the littoral to watch the throes of birth: the short sharp wriggle, the deflation of the sac, and the dart of the water boatman to gobble it up. After which, the water boatman returned to its station, feathered its oars and merged into its surroundings. So the predators keep the number of frogs down, but the sheer amount of spawn means that some will win through. As I waited for the next act in the tragedy, I became conscious of many other bugs in and on and above the pond: two spiders the size of ha'pennies walking on the water between grass stems; downy tinkerbells hovering and dipping; tiny black bugs scooting manically around on the surface; and more sedate water skaters and their six dimples. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a small black shape crawl out of the water and behind some reeds. It croaked once, but seemed too big for a frog. Of course, there was nothing there when I walked round, except the end of the drainage pipe. Anthony said later that moorhen had nested in the reeds last year, and it could have been hiding in the pipe, which sounded like a good explanation.

Most of the hedge roses can now definitively be said to be in leaf. The hawthorn buds have burst and the leaves are emerging, and one tree near the main gate is well ahead of itself and is already in leaf too. The neighbouring blackthorn is also well-advanced and on the verge of blossoming. The patch of violet violets down in the south east corner is extensive (not white violets - I obviously wasn't listening). Cowslips are appearing there too, just at the point of standing up and unshrugging their shoulders.

And I've dug half a house out of what will be the herb bed.