The Trough

There's a handicrafts fair once a year in our little village in Sweden. People from the area sell the stuff they make during the long winter evenings. Most of it is kind of kitschy, but I usually buy honey and jam. It's really the best honey in the world. A few years ago I bought a round cement trough from a little girl who apparently made cement things with her dad. She had some nice blue tiles on it, so I thought I would put it on my little terrace garden.

I did, and it looks nice when I clean it up and fill it with clean water, but just a day or so later it is filled with leaves, so I've just been ignoring it. It is kind of grown over anyway.

The past few days have been marvelous summer weather here, so I've been eating breakfast outside. But since I am alone, I am rather quiet. And I have been getting company. There is a squirrel (actually, I saw two of them together today) that apparently owns the place. I watch them climbing up the trees and across the telephone pole wires and across the lawn.

One is suddenly on my terrace, looking around for danger. I don't move, but he senses me. So instead of going straight for the water, he sneaks around a large bush in the corner. He checks that I haven't moved, then runs to the trough and takes a long drink. He checks again that the coast is clear, and then makes a mad dash to the closest tree, looking back to see if I am following.

So I'm glad I bought the trough, I've seen a frog enjoying it, too. And I now have my camera at the table. Maybe I'll get a chance to take a closeup.

Update: Here he is!

Good thing he left the berry for me!

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