Conversation in the Night

Another warm night and I sought relief on the patio. Nearing dusk I secretly wished for a sign of life, of light. One I hadn’t seen in awhile. As my eyes scanned the garden I found it, the tiniest of warm glows emanating from the praying hands hosta. It was fitting. Its leaves unwrapped pointing skyward releasing this wee creature into the night air.

I followed giggling watching it slowly circle the garden. It meandered over top of the water hyacinth bouncing from stalk to stalk; then moving to the shrubbery, in and out along the tops and in between. It lost itself once or twice at the back fence but always returned to the garden and to me.

As I watched him slowly spiralling up into the limbs of the ole maple I noticed the full moon in all its brilliance. I wondered if he saw it too. I believe he did because shortly after the wee light was lost to the night. Pouting, I sat back in my chair and gave thanks to have had one sweet interlude with him.

While I closed my eyes the breeze carried a very faint conversation in the night…

“Tell me, O moon, why your light shines brighter than mine?”

“Ahhh little one do you not know, I am not of this earth. It is my life to shine at night upon creatures of your planet.”

“Yes but moon, people gaze at you in wonder, wish upon you, even name their children after you. Me, I’m just a bug, a weak little bug that only lives for a few weeks but you moon, you live forever!”

“Little one, did you not see that human follow you through the garden? Did you not see the joy on her face when she saw you?”

“I guess I was busy looking for a mate and was focused on my I’m available light. But you saw her reaction moon?”

“Yes I did little one. But before you read much more into it, I don’t think she was looking at that but more your magical quality. She knows you only appear once a year and that makes you very special. I on the other hand am old, am always here in various shapes. I am not as special as you believe.”

“You mean by only living once a year I have humans searching for me, just me?”

“Yes, little one, just you. You have been written about, dreamt about, and have had magical midnight tales whispered by starlight for eons. You live on even when you are gone. You are revered as wonderment in their world. Never forget that in your journey this night.”

“Thank you moon, I didn’t know. You have enlightened me and now I shall glow with happiness and carry on my flight with a renewed sense of purpose. This little bug will bring a special light to the world!”

“Enjoy your night little one. Remember you are now and always will be magic!”

I couldn’t help but smile and wink at the moon whispering a thank you, while the wee creature floated through the tree tops, his light blinking to a new rhythm.

I have a Theory

I have a theory when frogs sleep. It has to be during the day when nocturnal creatures with a taste for frog legs aren’t about. I’ve been watching them today and do believe my theory is proven.

There is a birdbath, a blue clay platter filled with water on the edge of The Pond. It not only looks nice but serves a function as an actual birdbath especially for robins. However there appears to be more use by frogs than birds of late.

Frogue has been sitting in it all day. His back legs constantly twitching much like a pup who dreams of chasing that infernal cat does. I can relate because I’m not innocent of having those midnight twitches. As I kneel for a closer look I see his eyes are closed.

AHA! He is sleeping after all and perchance dreaming of his lady frog. Or it could be dinner, a huge plate of meal worms topped off with blood filled skidders. All I really know is my theory is correct and now I shall write my doctoral thesis, “Amphibian Wet Dreams, Fantasy or Frrribbbbbtion”.