Guess Who's Going to Star Island?

Me!  Get to go out for a couple of nights to help close up the shops.  And I saw my fat friend Toadsy this morning, too--a very good omen.  He's been a constant presence in the backyard since spring.  He's very big, and very active.  I swear if I've had enough wine, he looks like a small rabbit when I catch sight of him hopping along the perimeter from a distance.  So--what do a toad and the Isles of Shoals have in common?  Celia Thaxter, of course.  In the photo above, he's stalking a slug near his cement likeness.  About toads, Thaxter writes:

The toad has indeed no superior as a destroyer of noxious insects, and he possesses no bad habits and is entirely inoffensive himself, every owner of a garden should treat him with utmost hospitality.

I certainly do my best to be hospitable.

And there's that slug.  Thaxter writes:  

It seems to me the worst of all the plagues is the slug, the snail without a shell. He is beyond description repulsive, a mass of sooty, shapeless slime, and he devours everything.

Agreed.

Hours later, when I walked by the spot where I'd seen him earlier, he was nearly buried in a little hole in the dirt.  I hope he takes refuge here and emerges next spring, as Thaxter describes:

Early in April, as I was vigorously hoeing in a corner, I unearthed a huge toad, to my perfect delight and satisfaction; he had lived all winter, he had doubtless fed on slugs all the autumn. I could have kissed him on the spot.