After an onslaught of amphibians during this last storm, it brought to mind a strong pattern that seems to be building... Ever since one of our first few dates, frogs have been a recurring theme in my relationship with Dave, for reasons I won’t go into here.
Moving to the ranch just added fuel to the fire. Before we moved, I spent a night camped out alone on the property, just to be sure I was whole-heartedly on board with this new adventure. As the sun set on one of the most beautiful views in the world, the frogs began chirping. I grew up on a lake, and the sound immediately transported me back in time. (Unlike many people these days, I actually enjoyed my childhood, so this was a positive thing.) The darker it got, the louder they got, until you literally couldn’t hear yourself think. I was in love. Goodbye, freeway noise! So long, train whistle! Hello, frogs!
While we were refurbishing the "barndominium," we lived in a trailer on the property. As time, and the remodel, dragged on, and on, and on, our trailer started having some issues. The primary problem was that the plumbing was intended for use once a year, in a campground somewhere, using the trailer’s battery operated, low-volume, water pump. Being plumbed permanently to a common-variety garden hose was apparently too much pressure for the system, and the “pipes” (they were actually hoses themselves) developed leaks at the couplings, particularly under the kitchen sink.
We were far more worried about dealing with the real pipes in the barn, and so Dave's quick fix was to drill a through-hole under the sink so that the water would drain out under the trailer rather than onto the kitchen floor. We’d only be living in there a few more weeks, and then we could patch it, right? Riiight…
This was during the spring, when the pond was starting to dry up, and the frogs were desperately seeking any water source they could find. In fact, one evening I went to feed the dog and discovered that a bullfrog had commandeered her water dish. Not only did the frogs find their way to the mud puddle under the trailer, but also up through the hole into the trailer. (Works both ways, doesn’t it?)
So it happened unexpectedly one night that when I opened the kitchen cabinet to pull out a pan, Schlook!, out came a flying frog, and Bap!, he stuck to my arm like a gecko.
Needless to say, I’m sure my shriek was heard all the way down in town.
This went on for a couple weeks, with me always just distracted enough to forget until, Schlook!, Bap!, Shriek!
Then it became kind of a game. I’d open the cabinet and dodge out of the way to see if they could make it all the way across the room. I’d always release them into Blue’s water dish (the bullfrog had moved on by then), and they would make the journey back into the cabinet. Finally, after a time, they just became part of the daily routine.
In fact, by now it was summer, and we had been given an old water tank by one of the neighbors. The top had been cut off, so it made the perfect swimming pool. I could just fit a raft in it, and be spun in a circle like a propeller by the wind.
The frogs enjoyed the pool just as much as I did. They immediately colonized the edges, and as I spun in a lazy circle, Bap!, they would leap off the walls and join me on my raft. Que sera, sera.
Well, the barndominium was finally finished before the following winter, and as much as I missed my companions, it was nice to have clean dishes for a change. As the rain poured down one evening, I sat covered in a quilt, a cozy fire burning in the Franklin stove. Suddenly, Bap!, there was one of my little buddies, plastered to a window pane on the French doors.
I was almost tempted to let him in.
Almost.
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