This was supposed to be a photograph of a little frog.
'I have to take a photograph' I announced to my husband when I
arrived home from work this evening. I knew I should have taken one
on the way home as I'd finished early and the sun was finally shining
after a day of non-stop rain. But I'd groceries and a schoolbook to buy
so by the time I'd finished shopping I just felt like getting home.
'Why do don't you take a picture of the little frog in the wheelbarrow?" he
said, pleased with having come up with a subject for me.
He'd spotted the little 'golden' frog the day before and it was still there.
So out I went, and sure enough, when I poked through the debris of
weeds and dead flowers, I saw the frog. But as soon as it saw me, it
plunged into the depths of rainwater which had accumulated in the barrow.
So I had to content myself with this picture of some drowned flowers instead.
Something about them reminded me of the old hand-tinted Victorian postcards
in my grandmother's album, so I de-saturated it a bit - don't know whether it worked or not.