I am....

frogless.

And while most of you probably are too, I'm sure that doesn't bother you like it does me.  Seeing the pond empty of frogs is like having a cone with no ice cream.  It just isn't fun and it makes me sad.

We sat out on the patio the other night with friends, and as we talked, our last remaining frog serenaded us.  John freaked out, Betty laughed, and I grinned.  It's the simple stuff, you know?  I liked having that little friend singing me to sleep each night.  If you haven't had a bullfrog singing to the moon outside your bedroom window, then you haven't lived.  Well---according to me anyway.

Frogs are fickle and so, they leave, with no notice, no warning, and certainly no drama.  All that it takes is a wee bit of wet grass and a rainy night---and they are gone.  No "Thanks for raising me from a polywog, Lin" or "Time to move on, wacky frog-lovin' gal." Nope. You just wake up and look out into the pond one morning, and your heart sinks....knowing. You just know they are gone.

And then your husband goes to the local garden store to get you some tadpoles to make you happy, and the cycle begins again.

The hummingbirds are back for the summer and buzz our heads as we sit on the patio.  The dragonflies stop to lay their eggs on the surface of the water.  The fish are nudging each other and making more orangey baby fish. And the snails....well...they are nuts this year--I think we have a hundred of them if we have one.

So, while life continues on, I still feel sad for the loss of the frogs.  And until I spy some froglets come July, the pond isn't gonna be half as much fun to see....or hear.

 *sniff*