Wart, like many of the frogs in the village, has taken a particular liking to one garden he rather proudly calls his own. Now, frogs have something of a reputation around these parts. They’re a mischievous bunch, known for uprooting lovingly planted flowers, lobbing vegetables over garden walls and throwing rotten Bramley apples at unsuspecting foxes in the dead of night. But Wart is a little different. He’s a friendly soul, and much like a garden gnome, he’s considered a lucky charm by the family whose garden he calls home.
Autumn is Wart’s favourite time of year. With the leaves fallen from the old apple tree, he can finally perch amongst the bare branches and peer straight into the neighbouring gardens. He spends many a happy hour watching the other frogs get up to their usual naughtiness. The children have grown so fond of him that they wave eagerly from below, calling, “Hello, Mr Wart! How are your wife and children?” Wart gives a little tip of his red hat before settling back against his favourite branch. Somewhere beyond the garden wall, a sudden crash and a loud shriek tells him that the other frogs are up to their old tricks again. He smiles to himself and snuggles into his waistcoat. All is well in his little corner of the Autumn garden.