Interlude continued - froggy suicide

After three pointless days at work last week, and an evening with naomi klein, i set off on Thursday morning for Karlshof with [E] - who arrived at the station just two minutes after our train left because of the train drivers' strike. She said such situations stressed her, I on the other hand wasn't stressed at all, and we got the next train an hour later.
[E] is basically the Very First Person I met on my travels. She came along with the clowns on 31 May to the Bombodrom and we chatted a lot in the train. And when I came back to Karlshof in September from Vienna with Anna, [E] picked us up at the station - the coincidence was so strange, so much had happened for me in between, I'd met so many people and seen so many faces, that I at first couldn't even remember where I'd originally met her. Since then we've met a couple of times around Karlshof network meetings and decided to go off to the farm together last week.
Gorgeous landscapes and light out of our train - very flat as Brandenburg is, but still oh so joy- bringing after two weeks in the city. Arriving on the farm felt like arriving home, one home, or at relatives' - in any case, a place to feel good and comfortable. We thought we were coming for four days of hard work - doing whatever needed to be done before the winter comes. But instead, it turned out two people of the group had birthdays, one after the other - so we spent a lot of time having lazy brunches, eating cakes, going out for long communicative walks and not working much.
Still, we pargetted walls and the lower part of the living house - someone from another project south of Berlin came to teach us how to throw the parget on the wall and get it straight and flat. It was frustrating at first - my parget kept slowly slipping down the wall instead of staying put - but eventually I got the hang of it and it worked. As I looked at [P]'s section of the wall, I felt slightly jealous though - he had already finished polishing it, it was flat and clear and ready to dry beautifully.

Except that a bit of his parget started wriggling. And slowly, oh so slowly, a cemented frog's head and two cemented frog's front legs wiggled their way out of the flat surface. We were horrified by the vision of this frog who'd ended - bob knows how - in the cement mixture, been thrown onto the wall, flattened and polished and had already started drying and hardening along with the rest of the wall - but still managed to find a last inkling of strength to start separating itself from the parget. [P] grabbed the poor thing with horror and threw it away. We were all so shocked that none of us thought of sticking it into water and wash it. Soon we'll find a stone frog on that side of the house.