When spring hits chemin de la Côte, we get a load of frogs croaking. At first this was super weird and I can’t say like I liked them much. There was something Edgar Allen Poe-ish about their incessant creaky, screechy voices surrounding me and drowning out the other usual sounds on the street – horses clip-clopping.

But I think this year I feel a little differently about the frogs.

Maybe I’m used to them. Or maybe I’m just not as much of a country-woos (country-wooses get grossed out by the beauty of nature, such as the cat eating a mouse in front of you, or seeing a hornet fly into the bathroom and locking the door for 48 hours until your husband gets home from a work trip and opens the bathroom door for you to see it was a bumble-bee, not a hornet).

Anyway, wanna hear the frogs? Here you go.

Bonus: in this 17-second video clip you also see some adorable rust on our verandah roof, the third leaky roof at this fine establishment, which shall one day be replaced by something less late-’80s.

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