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Jenna paperback


There’s a frog outside my window.

Night One: I am delighted. I nudge my husband. Do you hear that? He does. I smile. I like the sound. It’s a sign of spring. Summer! He croaked all night long. He is loud. I didn’t mind. I hadn’t heard a frog in months.

Night Two: Ah, there he is again. I am hearing a pattern to his croaks. Ribit. Ribit. Ribbbbbbbbbbbit! All night long he croaks. Did I mention he is loud?

Night Three: My God, how can one little frog be so loud? And if he just croaked a regular rhythm it would melt into a background noise. But, no, he stops, he starts, he stops, he starts. And it is always ribit, ribit, ribbbbbbbbbit! Who is he calling? I start thinking of Ralph Kramden. Seriously. Alice? Alice? Aliccccccccccce! I am now picturing a very fat round frog.

Night Four: There he is again. His croaks are softer or my ears are numb. He only croaks a few croaks and then stops. For the whole night. I figure a) he is hoarse, or b) Alice clobbered him.

Ain’t spring lovely?


Ha! I've got a screechy teen bluejay in my backyard.
Gads, now those ARE noisy! I guess I shouldn't complain about my bellowing frog.


How do you know it's a "teen?"

Re: PS

I've seen him/her! Not a baby jay, not an adult. Screeching. I'm a creature person, so it's all cute to me.


Ah true love! Perhaps all his screeching finally brought about a mate. :) Now he can get busy! hehe
yeah, I guess it's always something. I'd take crickets over buses too ; )