Micia’s adventures in the vegetable garden, the hayloft and the farmhouse attic.

• 30 October 2026 #25 A Concert at the Pond That evening, Micia was closing the farmhouse shutters when she heard a sound coming from the woods. “Croak… croak-croak… croak.” Then silence. Then, once again, many voices together. Micia tilted an ear. It sounded as though someone was practising a song but couldn’t quite get started. She picked up the old oil lantern and followed the path. Its light slipped over roots and leaves, while little patches of starry sky appeared between the branches. At every bend, the sound grew closer. But when Micia reached the pond, everything fell quiet. “Have I come to the wrong place?” She stood still on the bank. Before her were only dark water, reeds and the trembling reflection of the moon. Then a voice croaked right beside her little paws. Micia jumped. A little frog was sitting on a low stone. “Oh, it was you!” Another frog answered from the opposite bank. A third joined in somewhere among the reeds, and soon the whole pond was singing again. Micia tried following the rhythm, tapping a paw gently against her knee. But just as she thought she had learnt it, one voice came in early and another took a long pause. “This concert is trickier than I expected.” She sat on a log and set the lantern beside her. She stopped counting and simply listened. When she got up to leave, the chorus fell silent again. Micia waited without moving. One frog gave a little croak. “Goodnight to you too,” she whispered. Behind her, along the path, the concert began again. Read the tale →

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