Retribution is very real. Yesterday I had wrongly accused our resident frogs of eating all the baby goldfish. It turned out that those little critters were just being sly and secretive, hiding in the murky labyrinth of dead leaves and muck. All seventy-five, plus or minus a few. We netted them all, tucked them in for the night in a tote and two washtubs, awaiting the cleaning and sealing of the pond today.
At risk of another round of false accusations, it appears that our friendly neighborhood raccoon thought we had set up a sushi bar. This morning when I went out to check on them, there was a solitary adult goldfish in one of the tubs and a few goldfish parts scattered around the area. Said raccoon is somewhat of a connoisseur, eschewing the single mottled goldfish in preference for the solid orange ones.
On a brighter note, this afternoon we had three young girls busy scrubbing the pond in preparation for its eventual sealing. Izzi, Hailey, and Taylor hosed, scrubbed, and gabbed for about three hours till the cement almost sparkled. I was cleaning the bricks I plan to use for our new patio, listening to the non-stop chatter emanating from the pond, grateful for their help and the joyful spirit with which they worked. Having them here was worth every dollar we paid them.
They were pretty grubby by the time they finished, so they decided to pay our swimming hole a visit, which ended surprisingly quickly. I could hear them all the way from where I was working by the house, as they came back up the lawn loudly informing me of the various leeches that they accumulated as they were sliding down the rocks, and of the snake that decided to join them for a swim. It's never dull around here, for which I am thankful tonight.