I rescued a froghopper this morning. Some of you will know what a froghopper is, some won’t, so I’ll explain. I expect you all know about cuckoo spit – definitely spit like stuff that is occasionally found on plants. If you investigate you will find a little insect inside, the larvae of a froghopper. The little fellow hides in a frothy mix of, well, spit, to discourage predators. I think the adults are the ones that jump, or hop, when you touch them. They’re quite small, little triangles.

I walked around the garden as usual seeing what’s what, seeing who had eaten who overnight, and collecting a few leaves for my morning cuppa. I collected a sprig of rosemary and then noticed the cuckoo spit. If I put that in boiling water, well, he won’t like it. Also I don’t really want spit in my tea. I ferreted him out and put him back on another leaf, and washed the sprig thoroughly before making my tea.

I’ve just looked him up to check if I was right about the jumping. I am. He can jump 70 times his own body length. Not bad, eh! His Latin name is Philaenus spumarius, in case that interests you. It interests me! Spumarius!

Oh, I nearly forgot. I met a little mouse last night. I was out on slug patrol with my torch and I opened the door to the greenhouse and shone it down among the tomato plants, and the little mouse ran in after me and sniffed my foot. Then he ran along the edge of the border and hid behind a pot. I moved the pot and he ran again and hid under a tray. He seemed disinclined to chat, so I continued my slug search. He popped his head out to see what I was doing and I ignored him. He was somewhere between curious and frightened. I think he was attracted by the torchlight. I soon had to leave, and I didn’t want to shut him in the greenhouse as I wasn’t sure he could find a way out. I was able to herd him out of the door with a ray of torchlight, and he hopped over the threshold and shot off into the blackcurrant bushes.

I say drop a mouse into a poem / and watch him probe his way out, Billy Collins, Introduction to Poetry

I say drop a mouse into a garden/ and watch him probe his way out, Mike Coote, Introduction to Gardening.