I think of it like this: It is so beautiful to be reminded that there are bits of this world that are still okay. Not just okay, but safe and thriving despite it all. When you find that bit, like the frog family and their 4-foot square world, an entire ecosystem right at your feet, you have an opportunity to let your heart love it. When you do, your own living is affirmed. It’s like visiting a magical doll house where everything is precious, everyone gets along, and nothing is going to change. Tiny corners of the world can be coveted gems of life and just by watching them live, we can catch some of the sparkle and feel special and good.
Welcome to A Fiber Life, The story of how we bought a farm and got much more. Our hope is that this podcast will do for you, what our adventure has done for us…inspire you to live with every FIBER of your being.
This is the first episode of Season 3 where we’ve set out to capture and celebrate ordinary moments in our lives on the farm. Because even the little things like the basics and the mundane are important. They can be lessons on how to live well and, in their simplicity or maybe because of it, they can form significant touchstones in our lives.
In this episode, I’m going to tell you all about our little frog family. And Greg and I are going to talk about our bonds with them. We are going to marvel at how much such a little thing means to us, and why it matters. And we will laugh about what might actually be a ridiculous but wonderful form of love. Find some respite with me. Settle in, take a breath. Join me in the peaceful reverence. If you want to be reminded about the magic of life or how it feels to deeply cherish something, or even if you want to find more out about this unique form of love, this episode is for you.
For the past year my journaling practice has been to write a short entry every day that starts with the words, “I want to remember.” For this episode, I want to read to you an entry I wrote this summer. It’s the frog family story.
Here goes.
I want to remember the family of frogs living in the moss-covered stairwell at the entrance to the crawl space under our house.
At least I like to think of them as a family. The mama has grown to the size of my palm and her color has intensified to match the Fall leaves. Or maybe she’s not the same mama as last year or this summer or whenever it was that my cousin’s son, Petie jumped his 6-year-old body into their muddy enclosure and accidentally trampled one of the babies. He felt bad, but I could tell he made a choice to remain hopeful for a full recovery as he lifted the baby up, awkwardly shaped spine and all, to show me. Then he gently gave the crumpled baby to the cavern of the basement and said, “I’m sorry, I hope you feel better soon.” No one gasped. We took his lead and silently wished the baby well. His act of kindness for himself and that sad frog baby gave us all a bit of hope that day.
From that day last summer forward we’ve been extra careful about letting anyone go down into the frog family’s house. And now, the big orange red mama has a new brood. I stop to peer in with our dog, Aoife on our way to the barn for morning chores. She leans her nose over the edge like she’s looking into a deep hole, bowed down on her forelegs so she can be closer without actually going in. I’ve told her not to jump in and she believes me—”That’s the frog family house and we just look—don’t touch”. We haven’t told Leo about them yet. He’s still a puppy and wouldn’t understand.
Their camouflage is so effective in the wet moss and scattered tree debris; the babies are only visible when they hop. When I crouch down with Aoife and look in, I hold my breath a bit so that I can stay very still. We wait and watch together while the trees blow in the wind. Once I settle, I have close-in eyes and I can count them. Just a quick check on the family status–the mama progress. I feel a sense of responsibility. As if counting the babies upholds some kind of guardianship agreement. Like I’m protecting them. Or at least keeping track.
There have been 8 to 10 babies in the last couple of days. I attribute those high numbers to the balmy rain that has moved in. The dry summer didn’t do them any good. Who can raise a family in a stairwell full of dust?
And I’m pleased with these littles. I’m proud that I know them and they seem to be thriving. Adding on some color, reddish brown, yellow brown, taupe. They are small buttons of hope with a big mama who splats herself away if we rustle too much as Aoife and I peer from the edge. I have a temptation to go down there, carefully so that I don’t step on anyone with my heavy muck boots, and scoop a few up. Hold the shiny miniatures, get near enough to look into their teensy eyes. Or maybe I should name them, make them more familiar, like declare them actual pets.
My fascination and love have me grappling with frog questions. I wonder if I should rescue the mama. Is she trapped in there? Is she just making the best of being stuck after a misstep on her way to somewhere else? How on earth does she plan to exit her 4-foot square world? I’m certain she won’t be able to make the leap to the top of the stairwell. There’s not enough room to get a running start and how high can frogs leap anyway? Maybe she doesn’t even want to leave. She’s got her babies and her mossy bed, it is probably perfect for that mama frog? It is likely that she doesn’t need or want for anything.
In the end, I decide to imagine her content with just the way it all happens. A revolving door of babies and three beings (2 humans plus one dog) that peer over the edge and acknowledge her existence every day.
After I read my frog family entry to my husband Greg. I asked him if he has the same sense of responsibility that I do for the frogs. It turns out he does.
“I kind of do. I would miss them if they weren’t there. It’s funny how you get attached to all these little things that form sort of a web of your life. And I look for them,” Greg said.
“I know,” Greg said
“And I feel attached to them. I would feel upset if they weren’t there. Or something happened to them,” Lisa said
“Yes,” Greg said.
“I think it’s hysterical that you and I both sort of look out for this family. And it’s not like we had a conversation about , Oh, we’ve got to be responsible for these frogs in our basement stairwell. Like, somehow, it’s part of our human spirit or our approach to other beings or something like we have a responsibility toward them,” Lisa said.
Other people think it’s funny too. When we have visitors on the farm, they love meeting our animals. We introduce them to the guanacos in the barn and they are wowed by their rare elegance. Then we take them to the goat pen and they fall in love with their sweet affection. And then at some point I ask myself, “Are they the kind of people who will love our frog family?” And if the answer is yes, I invite them to our stairwell to meet the frogs. Sometimes I get enthusiastic responses. Mostly I get raised eyebrows and tight smiles that convey puzzlement. As if they are asking, “After seeing guanacos and goats why on earth would we want to look at frogs who aren’t even your pets?”
Maybe it is a bit curious why Greg and I have such a soft spot for our free loading frogs. I asked Greg why he thinks we love them so much.
“I have become very connected to all of the manifestations of life here. Even the ones that you would think you don’t like that much like the coyotes that keep us up. And the owls that sing concerts for us, and wake us up. It makes me feel alive, warm, to think of this place teeming with life as its own constant re-creation, you know. It’s easy for me to become attached to these little forms of life that otherwise most people would think were silly, or goofy or whatever. How about you?,” Greg said.
“I think if I can cherish or treasure the life forms here I feel more content. More like I’m treasuring…… my life –all of life, you know, more connected with living,” Lisa said.
“But I will say, you know, when it comes to all the rats and the mice and stuff, even though they’re mammals, I just don’t feel about them the way I do about the frog family. It’s funny,” Greg said.
“I don’t either. I don’t like them that much. They leave their droppings all over. Even the ones that live under the house,” Lisa said.
“So maybe it’s just the fact that the frogs are so cute with all the babies. And they don’t bother us,” Greg said.
“So that’s kind of conditional love,”Lisa said.
“I guess. But the coyotes and the owls bother us,” Greg said.
“Oh, yeah, they do. But we love them, don’t we?” Lisa said.
“We kind of do, Yeah, I would miss them. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just amphibian love,” Greg laughed.
“I think there’s a size thing,” Lisa said.
“It could be,” Greg said.
“No, that doesn’t work either. Because mice are so small,” Lisa said.
“Right, and lizards are tiny. Maybe it’s just amphibian love and avian love because we like the owls. So it’s amphibian avian love,” Greg and Lisa laughed together.
“I think that’s not a thing,” Lisa said.
“All right, maybe not,” Greg said.
“But I’m glad we have it,” Lisa said.
“Yes, me too. I’m so happy they moved there,” Greg said.
“Yeah, me too,” Lisa said.
I actually think it is more than love. There is something about hosting such environmentally vulnerable creatures. Their little world astonishes me. It is perfectly situated so that rain and snow and sunlight can reach it, but nothing else. No predators. We don’t use chemicals on the farm, so their world is pure. The fact that they found a home here marvels me. And it makes me feel like we are holding them, protecting them, honoring their fragile existence through our cherishing.
“That stairwell area is perfect. Because no birds can really swoop in a get them up because it’s so far too small. They might have a sense of safety that other frog families don’t,” Lisa said.
“That’s true the risk to them. As long as there’s food there,” Greg said.
“Maybe that’s why she stayed. She’s smart,” Lisa said.
“It could be. It could be I still don’t know how she has her babies and raises their babies,” Greg said.
“But it makes me feel proud. I think we have a smart frog mama,” Lisa said
“That she’s moved into our house because it affords her protection,” Greg said.
“That she’s sought it out,” Lisa said.
Greg and I went to say hi to the frog family together, to check on them, and I guess, to get a dose of Amphibian Love
“Where’s the Mama? Oh, there she is. Her nose is sticking out, “ Greg said.
“Hi frog family,” Lisa said.
“Hi, where are your babies Mama?” Greg said.
“Have a nice day. Froggy, babies,” Lisa said.
“Yes. Stay warm,” Greg said.
It’s so tender and goofy and real, this Amphibian love. The frog family and their perfect little slice of world leaves me hopeful and affirms my life. When I think about their thin skins and delicate limbs, I feel a sense of longing. A strong pull to protect them, to give them respite from an otherwise dangerous world. And, to see them, to cherish them, to care about them is to be reminded that there are small pieces of this world that are still pure and safe. And that is something to remember.
