I don’t know when it first started. Wait, yes I do. It all started when my family moved to the South. Before then, I’d never seen a frog in person. The only experience I had with them was The Wind and the Willows. (And that was a toad, technically.) Then we moved to the South. Suddenly there were frogs in our backyard, on the dinner table (though never ours, thank goodness), in the road at night, croaking from somewhere in the dark.
I hated them. All of them. And I did not want them anywhere near me. (You see, they can jump. On me. Which is not cool.)
So here we are, two and a half years into home ownership, and what should take up residence right beyond the boundary of our porch?
So great has my aversion to them grown (I have nursed it for a while now, mind you), that even looking at these photos makes me cringe. Without fail, he crawls out from underneath the pavers around dusk each night, and sits in this very spot. Every night.
It torments me to no end.The first night he appeared, I ran howling back inside, dog at my heels. I like to consider myself a very rational person, but that all goes out the door when I see a frog. Suddenly I turn into a screechy prepubescent girl and race for the nearest door. It’s embarrassing. I admit it.
So on the night I discovered the frog, Scout and I raced back inside and yelled for B. He looked at me from the couch and said, “You know, he’s helping you.”
“He’s eating the bugs.”
Hmm. This was a conundrum. A) I was thankful for the bug help. Any help in that area is nice. We live on a lake, after all. Any help in the bug department is nice. But B) Said help required the presence of a frog, very near my back door.
Since that day, Scout (who also has decided she doesn’t like the frog) and I have made a tentative truce with the frog. Each night he comes out of his mysterious hole and sits on the pavers under the hydrangeas, and each night Scout and I walk a wwwwiiiiiddddeee circle around him as we head to the grass for Scout to do her nightly business before bed. We stay on our side of the yard, and Senior Frog stays on his. We do not co-mingle. There is zero mingling on this patio. And then the dog and I race back inside before the frog can jump anywhere near us.
This cannot last forever. But while it does, let’s all stop to appreciate the growth that is happening right now. There is a frog in my backyard at this very second, and I have not screamed once.
Growth, guys. Real growth.