August 6th 2011 Tim Candler
I staggered down the stairs in a
rage last night to shout at the Frog. He was suddenly silent and
so was every one else, which for a while at least gave me a sense of
being in charge. Then in the woods, several hundred yards away,
other night calling Frogs set up a chorus, and from his ornamentals my
little Frog joined in.
Cathartic, I suppose.
Because I have to wonder what it was that made him leave his clan, hop all
that distance to the lonely trees by the house. Now when I listen to
his song I hear his determination, and sometimes I hear his uncertainty.
As well I must have pulled a vocal chord, or swallowed the spider that
weaves by the back door.