First up, the mystery knitting.
I remember now that I stopped knitting it ages before we moved house, and began another project which I now cannot find. So, back to this one, but as mentioned a couple of days ago, I have no clear memory of what it was destined to be. Another pair of these I suspect, but cannot be sure.
One day all the boxes will be unpacked and some semblance of order will be reinstated.
Last night, after a searing day, we watched the play of light over the hills.
... turned to this ...
... which turned to this.
We oohed and aahed appropriately.
But wait, go back a minute.
What was that in the sky?
Are we to be overrun by a plague of woolly mammoths?
Mr Soup and I were retiring to bed when we discovered this little fellow sitting on the laundry floor. We scooped him up for closer investigation and photographic duties, and identified him as (we think) a Striped Marsh Frog.
He was incredibly tiny and very cool and pleasing to hold, as well as delightfully unfussed by our presence. He stayed with us for a few minutes and then took a flying leap out into the darkness. Hopefully not straight into the waiting beak of a barn owl.
After we popped him down, and went round to lock the front door, marvelling at our very own meet-the-wildlife experience, lo, there was another wee frog perched on the edge of a shallow bowl filled with river stones and water. (The perfect frog resting spot, one presumes).
By this stage, Son #1 had become aware something was going on and he sleepily joined us. The look on his face as the frog sat on his outstretched arm, its tiny throat vibrating madly, was priceless.
* Have I been reading too many books on classical mythology perhaps? (I finished The King Must Die by Mary Renault and while deep in the throes of the Theseus myth, thought I'd try Ariadne by June Rachuy Brindel).