At least, that's what I supposed at first: the things critters do can be just plain strange and inexplicable.
Let me set up the situation. Here's my front door, located on the backside of the front deck of the previous post. You may recognize the giant house (ha!) plant. Please excuse the condition of said door; I live in the back of beyond, it doesn't* matter what my door looks like as long as it works. Please take pity on the poor twiggy hibiscus; it didn't survive the winter inside half so well as the Monstera. Please note the little leafy thing sitting on the bench behind both of the other plants...
Here, let's take a closer look:
That little pot, there. I was watering some plants that I didn't get to last evening, and checking on (and topping off) plants I had watered, when I noticed something pale and bloated in the pothos pot.
Eew, what is that…?
Oh, good grief. You again? And how on earth did you get up here, you crazy beastie? Yes, toads frequent the deck; the steps, presumably, have a rise low enough**—and toads apparently nimble enough—to ascend even if your legs are quite short and stick out more or less sideways from your body. The location of the previous photos of toad-in-pot was only two steps up. Granted, it was a tallish pot for something so short as a toad, but this pot was all the way up the deck, and then up the bench. And then the little bugger had to smush itself in amongst the stems…
Wildlife is weird.
But I finally realized that the pots on my front deck are the only place in the surrounding acres where water—and even merely moist soil—can be found with any consistency lately, given the recent lack of rain and frighteningly hot (80°F at 8am and rising rapidly), sunny, windy weather. Still, there are at least half a dozen pots more easily accessible. (Not to mention that the deck itself and likely the nice cool dark space below the deck had received a brief soaking yesterday as the over-watered pots over-flowed in nice little tinkling cascades.) I suppose wildlife will be weird if it’s a matter a survival.
Or perhaps I am inadvertently and unknowingly sending out signals?
This season's flag. Ok, right family, wrong genus, but you'd think I'd pay more attention to things like this—I mean, look what the snowflake flag brought me this winter… (I still maintain that I am not superstitious.)
And the promised photo of the very happy hosta-in-a-pot. (With this and the coral bells being so pleased to be in pots instead of what tries to pass as topsoil in the yard [happiness which may have everything to do with being watered consistently], I'm thinking to try all sorts of "land"scape plants in pots.) Too bad the lovely blue blooms ended up too washed out in the picture to be appreciated as they deserve:
*sigh* Note the awesome piece of pottery I found at the store a few months ago…
I'm in love with a Big Blue Frog—
::snicker:: If you aren't humming, you aren't the Peter, Paul and Mary fan you thought you were!
A big blue phrog loves me…
* Oh, my. My spell check actually wanted to use the contraction "don't" here. I'm still in shock…