Frogs.

I got yer frogs.

I’m sittin’ in our library. The windows in front of me overlook a decorative pool with a quiet, reassuring fountain and four frogs, one of which is not quiet. He/she/it serenades with a repeated un-sweet 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 in memory of that sad excuse for a car 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.
• Walt Kelly’s political candidate frog whose answer to every question was; “Jes fine!” It was a novel and funny concept in the 50’s…mebbe not so novel and not so funny today.
• Mr. Toad in Kenneth Graham’s THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS.
• Kermit crooning “Rainbow Connection.”
• 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 (one hop at a time) and deal out some vague, ill-explained environmental vengeance against Ray Milland.
• That jaw-dropping Gray Larson cartoon about frog legs.
• And of course, those Budweiser frogs. Ah, Louie…I miss ye.

I think I’ll open the window.

R-r-r-ibbittt.