Monday October 8th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about: the frog(s).

A little frog has taken up residence in our root house. Kat's dad gathered it up and placed it elsewhere yesterday, but it was already back in there this morning.

It's kinda cute, but I'd rather not have it hopping all over our garlic, potatoes, and onions.

Nearly managed to successfully get through our penultimate box program day - unfortunately the holiday mixed a couple people up, one of whom won't be able to come get their box until tomorrow morning.

But, otherwise, it went well. And we put together some pretty nice boxes, considering all the frost we've seen since last Wednesday.

Mine:

The girls sit by the river, dresses muddied and blonde hair in tangles. They look similar enough to be sisters, but they are not. In fact, an honest assessment of their relationship would conclude that they are not even friends.

Their mothers are childhood friends, and an annual joint vacation forces them together every summer. Since their ages are nearly identical their mothers presumed the girls would bond sooner than later, coming together for adventures and memories reminiscent of the ones they had formed in their own youth.

They continue to believe this, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

On this occasion the girls have been on their own since a picnic lunch concluded in the park at their backs. It is now late afternoon and they will be called to dinner at any moment.

Which means that they have very little time left to locate the frog they have just been fighting over. It had escaped during their argument, somewhere between what they should name it and who would kiss it first.

It was almost as though the prince had decided that neither girl would make a particularly fitting princess.

7 Comments:

Greg said...

I'm assuming that Kat's dad spotted the frog first and that's why he gathered it up and took it away, rather than you seeing it and screaming like a little girl until he rescued you :-P It might be worth checking the root house though, as frogs generally prefer damp places, and I'd have thought a root house should be dry.
I'm not sure why, but I started reading your piece I was put in mind of Alice in Wonderland; by the end of it I definitely wasn't! I kind of wish we'd seen the fighting too :) However, I do like the narrative voice, and the sense that something really interesting is about to happen.

The frog
The Eidolon had fifteen eyes, arranged in two rows running neatly around her entire head. The upper row had eight, and the lower row had seven, each of which blinked and moved independently. Her head was otherwise hairless and ovoid; her nose was a little snub nose that would fit perfectly with any pair of the eyes, and her mouth was petite, shaped like Cupid's bow, and concealed only small, perfectly white teeth. She crossed her legs, letting her split skirt fall slightly apart to reveal the smooth, golden beauty of them, but all of her eyes that faced forward were looking at the frog.
Jasreen, who was holding the frog in his hands and feeling exceptionally exposed, swallowed hard, and willed himself not to sweat. Prime Minister Hegaton, off to his left, looked much more relaxed.
"Is it food?" asked the Eidolon finally. The shadows behind her seemed to swell and move, and Jasreen wondered if any of her Instars were in the room. "It looks like food." She sniffed, and it went on for too long, as though her lungs were much, much deeper than her body suggested.
"People do eat their legs," said Hegaton, his voice calm.
"Really?" The Eidolon's mood seemed to brighten. "Presumably then the frog grows more, so that there are legs every day? What a useful food! Pull a leg off and present it to me!"

Cathryn Leigh said...

Frogs... hm... so many places to go with it.

My mother married a frog (aka a French man, well not from France, but with French Canadian heritage, he’s also related to Lizzy Bordon...)

My great-grandmother had a dog who loved frogs. Well the plastic ones, at least. Every now and then we’d wonder what he’d do with a real frog.

But suddenly I’m in a childish mood...


The Frog

A frog is green and likes the wet.
He hops and jumps about.
Sometimes he makes a decent pet.
As long as you don’t let him out!


(Inspired by the poems my daughter brought home weekly in Kindergarten, which were often about some animal or object that began with the letter of the week.)

Mirko said...

The rays of the morning sun, beginning to warm a shallow pond.
Sitting on a green leaf, with its wide protruding eyes, capturing the sight of an insect flying nearby, a Pacific Tree Frog, rests silently. It is not disturbed by other frogs swimming past the leaf.

Barry, a naturalist in his early 30s, decided to take the day off, and enjoy the last remaining days of the Indian Summer. Walking past the pond, he notices the Pacific Tree Frog sitting on the green leaf, and pauses to observe a sight he has not witnessed before. Barry's hazel eyes observe how its colours begin to change. As this moment passes, Barry realizes he has never seen a Pacific Tree Frog, this little green creature, in this particular pond, or any nearby ponds that he visits regularly. His curiosity sufficiently awaken, he keeps observing the frog, with his eyes ready to follow the frog leaping from one leaf to another. Barry's anticipation for that moment rises.

With one motion, the frog leaps into the air onto a nearby leaf, taking the insect with it; and resting for a few seconds before jumping again.

Barry, continuing to stand at the same spot, his feet firmly rooted to the ground, continuing to observe the leaps of the frog, begins to smile, appreciating the sights and sounds of that morning hour.

Marc said...

Greg - I did, in fact, spot it first. There was no screaming involved, I just refused to touch it :P

The root house is dry, just not perfectly sealed. We're pretty sure we know how the little guy is getting in there, we just have to do something about it.

Eek, creepy creature. Did enjoy the description of her sniffing.

Cathryn - hah, cute little poem.

Also: I think encouraging the writing of poetry at that young of an age is fantastic.

Mirko - hello and welcome to the blog! So glad you've not only found us here, but shared some of your writing as well!

That's some lovely, contemplative writing. Very much enjoyed that :)

writebite said...

The Frog

The first time I saw a green tree frog was at night. I'd nearly stepped on it on my way to the public toilet at a caravan park. Obviously, I wasn't very familiar with these tropical places. I soon learned.
As time passed, I saw more and more green frogs, but never in trees.
They like to inhabit people's houses, gaining a vantage point high up on a window to entertain the toddler below looking up and pointing. Or you might find them poking their heads out of buckets of rain water, or hiding in water pipes. You might need to check the cistern once in a while, too.
One of the best times a green tree frog presented itself was in the toddler's toy box. A new toy had been added. It was a plastic farmboy and in his hand was a green tree frog. The young owner of said toy quickly gave the answer to my question of "What's that?" when I pointed to the frog, as "Fog!"
You've got to love that.

Marc said...

Writebite - hah! Yes, yes you do have to love that :D

writebite said...

for a photo click on
http://write-bite.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/the-frog-dwp_10.html