This post really should be a “Friday Funny”, but as Blogger was down all day yesterday, I was never able to post. And it may not be funny to anyone other than myself, but I wanted to share the story and the memory it inspired, as it put me in a great mood for the entire day.
Friday morning, I went out on the patio to water my burgeoning garden. No big deal, as I perform that task daily since moving my indoor seedlings to their exterior growing spots. I began watering away at 7 in the morning, having forgone the coffee since the weather had turned markedly warmer here in the South. Moving from plant to plant, careful not to waste any water, I moved on to the cantaloupes and spotted something buried in the top of the soil. Brain still in a fog, I jumped about three feet in the air, and about the same distance backwards. What on Earth could it have been, you ask? A snake, perhaps? No, nothing quite that vicious. The object of my fright was none other than a 1-1/2” frog who had made his bed for the night in my planter. Yes, that small, unassuming creature nearly gave this 41 year old, hefty-sized man a near coronary.
Once the fog cleared from my brain, I stood there, garden hose in hand, water gushing everywhere (so much for conservation), and I began to laugh. I laughed at the silliness of the situation, but more so, I laughed because that moment brought back a sweet memory of my grandmother. Nana was afraid of almost nothing; the lone exception being…you guessed it….frogs. I remember one summer, I must have been about 7 or 8, the two of us were working in her yard, planting flowers in the rock beds and such. While cleaning out one of the beds, I came across a rather large frog, basking in the warm summer sun. Being a typical mischievous young boy, I picked up the frog, turned around and said “Nana, look what I found! Can I keep it?” Not in my entire life before had I ever seen my grandmother move so quickly; I think she may have set an unofficial world record in the 100-yard dash that day. After a bit of screaming on her part, huffing and puffing on mine, I put the frog away and we went on with our chores for the day. I truly believe that was the only day she was ever mad at me, or least the only time she ever let me know it anyway and I know it was the only day I had ever seen fear in her eyes. Never again did I bring a frog close to Nana; I learned that lesson mighty quick. Writing this now, I still have a smile on my face, believing that yet another part of her lives on in me.
I love and miss you Nana; thank you for giving me so much unconditional love.
