I got yer frogs.
I’m sittin’ in our library. The windows in front of me overlook a decorative pool with a quiet fountain and four frogs, one of which is not quiet. He/she/it serenades with a repeated unsweet burp that lies somewhere between a croak and a rasp. It is scarily reminiscent of the prophetic sounds my 1963 Mercury Comet used to make in 1969 on I-64 just before it lapsed into a defeated silence that prompted some serious pavement pounding on my part.
Tonight, my feet flinch with each chirp of the frog.
Still, I like the sound.
It reminds me of other favorite frog moments…
- The great frog hunt scene, deliciously narrated by John Huston in the film CANNERY ROW.
- Mr. Toad in Kenneth Graham’s THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS.
- In the ridiculous film FROGS, Sam Elliott (long before he reassured us at the bowling alley bar that “The Dude abides”) rescuing Joan Van Ark from the thousands of frogs angrily erupting from the muck to run amok and deal out some vague, ill-explained environmental vengeance.
- And of course…those Budweiser frogs. Ah, Louie.
I think I’ll open the window.