Friday, September 12, 2008

More Rains Cometh...

More rains cometh...which is probably a good thing. The tame prairie is an enchanting shade of green. And, perhaps, the water tables are being re-filled from the previous drought conditions. And, another good thing...the Kougar’s apple trees may not produce picture perfect fruit, but the taste is heaven compared to what’s in the grocery stores these days.
In memoriam for Nine Eleven ~ the Kougar’s heart goes out to everyone who has suffered and is still suffering horribly. Blessings from the Divine. Given, the Kougaress has suffered great personal loss in her life she can say this is truly from her heart.
Imagine if you will, it’s well after midnight, closing in on dawn actually. Returning to your writerly artistically messy office you catch a glimpse of a hopping critter. Not just a hopping creature, but one which leaps a good foot and a half from the floor. Leaning over to gaze more closely, since the lighting is dim, you notice it’s a slim trim young-looking froggie...light brown with two darker stripes along his back.
Okay, you head to the nearby kitchen for an empty cottage cheese container, hoping to catch adorable froggie, and free him into the wilderness night. Especially since you’d just heard a report from Linda Molten-Howe about the huge number of disappearing amphibian species. Not to mention, there’s just something adorable about frogs. And there’s a special place inside you which loves helping wild critters anyway.
But, Nope. Froggie magnificently leaps into the container jungle of your writerly domain. So praying for froggies well-being you continue keyboard-penning that next fantabulous sizzle novel.
Soon, you hear froggie conquering your plastic jungle maze, jumping a circuit around the room. And finally, voila, there cute froggie is, calmly reposing on top of the plastic bag holding your postage stamps, which are in a red milk crate. Talking to froggie you reach for the cottage cheese container, wondering how to trap him. Is it a him? Certainly acts like a him, a certain swagger to his leaping.
However, brown medium-sized froggie is evidently not in the mood to be caught, and splendidly leaps beneath the six foot table, continuing a noisy journey through your own personal dust bunny hell. To your surprise froggie makes an appearance near your feet as you type in your inspired words. Although, he must not be feeling it, because the young frog prince doesn’t hang around long enough to even get the cottage cheese container into position by crawling beneath your computer desk, while cooing a plea to let him himself be caught.
Okay, it’s a no go, so you return to that otherworld of your novel listening to froggie make plastic and paper-crashing hops, knowing the one window inside the room is cracked wide enough at the bottom for a quick escape from human land.
Not hearing anything for a long while, you eventually get the much-needed slumber urge, wrap it up, turn off the computer and head off to the bedroom. Yes, there’s an odd trail down the center of the old hall carpet...but, hey, you’d seen a great big fat slug earlier, which was so high up on the wall you couldn’t coax it into the ever handy cottage cheese container.
Yep, pillows are ready and positioned, the blanket pulled up and your body is drifting off into snooze land. But, no, not for hear a strange commotion near the window. And there he is! The frog prince, on the window sill, pressed up against the pane. Well, there’s no cracking that window higher, and the dang screen is in the way, anyway. So, waking back up, you head for the cottage cheese container.
But, nope, froggie isn’t playing that game either, and leaps into the room-long, plastic morass of more life-long collected containers where all your important stuff has been stored.
Ain’t no way to track the frog prince’s progress. However, his leaping soft-crunching progress can be heard in loud enough, uneven spurts through all your plastic-trapped stuff.
But. Enter the bright light of an idea! So, you get up with renewed vigor and hope, open the bathroom window wide, then crack the back french doors. Lastly, you sacrifice the screen on the window beside your bed, just for froggie’s escape into the wild lands of what used be a lawn. Once upon a time. But is now a paradise for herbs come consider weeds.
Yes, with fervent hope beating in your breast, you think of froggie continuing his amphibian species by living long enough to find that special little princess, and produce all those lovely little tadpoles. Drowsy, once again, you slip between the covers and shut your eyes.
Not to be. Plop! Cracking an eye open and rolling over to look toward the window. There. Serenely sits the frog prince on top of a blanket you aren’t currently using. However, all for sake of breeding froggies, you rise up, and attempt to shoo him toward the place where the screen has been maneuvered open to allow his escape.
Again. Nope. He leaps back into the large plastic hinterland. Praying to the Great Frog Spirit, you roll back over and try and get some shuteye. You’re just dozing off...when. Thump-plop. Opening your eyes, focusing on the suspicious looking blob, you wake up enough to see froggie comfortably eyeing you while resting on top of your cover, in the middle of your bed.
Okay, unbelievably weird. Shamanic message from Frog Spirit? What it is you have no clue, and speculation doesn’t seem promising. Nor are you up to it. However, Mr. Young Frog Prince doesn’t move as you slowly get up to retrieve the cottage cheese container. Weirder, happily sitting froggie is still there when you return. Being careful not crush him, you lean over and just as you position the container, he leaps almost straight up, an impressive height. Wow, what a prince! If only...
However, hope springs eternal, when he heads with muscular lithe leaps, in the direction of the cracked-open french door.
Now this is the really embarrassing part. You figure you’ll just give him some encouragement, so on your hands and knees you crawl after him. He leaps, you crawl. He leaps, you continue crawling. Yes, he’ll hop right out the door into the summer night, and join his froggie brethren. Yep, the night air is calling him like a siren. You keep crawling after him. Hope, hope. Yep, even though your butt is naked and mooning any ghosts hanging around.
Yes, even the ghostly realm needs a great, long, rolling-in-the-ethers laugh now and then
Argh! And oh no! At the last moment, the frog prince veers. Effortlessly he leaps back into the large piles of your craft supplies, and resists any and all well-meaning attempts to gather him into the cottage cheese container or persuade him outside.
Lost once again in the forest of your stuff, you figure only the divine intervention of the Great Frog Spirit can help him now.
Okay and sigh with huge nasty disappointment, you head back to bed. Finally you slip into a semi-doze, then you hear...smack plop. Yep, smack plop. Hesitating, not believing, you ultimately blink open your reluctant eyes.
Yes, there he is, first a blog, then...the frog prince is regally ensconced on top of your purple beanbag chair at the end of your bed.
Is this real? Staring, you know it’s not a dream. And there he is, as if he’s there for an extended and friendly visit.
Yeah, right, I tell myself...kiss the frog. He’ll transform into the prince you never had...yeah, sure, not falling for that one...the cosmic trickster must be at work. Trying to tempt you into that fairytale of living happily ever after. Of believing.
But, you’re not falling for it. Even if he is adorable, you’re not kissing that frog. However, once again, you get your hope up, and grab the cottage cheese container, along with a nearby wash cloth...maybe this time.
Maybe, weird, but wonderful froggie is worn out and you can capture him.
Lowering yourself down very slowly, leaning in to spring the trap...yes, the wash cloth settles, you grab gently...but! He leaps like a son of a gun. Or a mighty frog. Right on top of a stack of containers holding your books...avoiding your sincere attempt to help him...just like most guys...hey, one of the stories of your life.
With nothing left to do but enter dreamlandia now, you wonder if the frog prince will plop close to you again...still, finally sleep claims you...while you whisper prayers to save the frog prince from himself...
So goes the strange froggie saga...believe it or not.
And since there was no frog-expired smell in the end, you assume the visiting frog prince discovered how to enter the sanctuary of his own wild lands once again.
A happily ever after?
Kiss from the Kougar, an almost froggie princess...

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