I met Frieda early one summer when she announced herself in boisterous song. This happy little frog had set up camp in a yucca plant between my front porch light and an outdoor faucet. With dripping water on her left and swarming bugs on her right, this chubby girl had plenty to sing about.Frieda disappeared in the Fall, but she is not forgotten. My memory holds her tiny joyful presence—a bright green chunk of smiling, outspoken, froggy fun.
2 comments:
I used ot have a toad. We would sit on the backstep every night and I would stroke his back and we would seldom speak.
He left in the autumn too.
Q
thats a cool photo
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