Summertime brings toads to our garden. They hang out by the tomatoes, under the tulips and are just well, toads.
They also get stuck in the window wells.
And they can't get out.
And I feel bad. It's a poor fate for a toad, to be stuck in a window well in 90+ degree weather. So a couple times a week, I gather my little garden shovel and Samantha's sand bucket, climb down into the window well, and rescue my toady friends.
Today I rescued three little guys from the window well. Upon climbing out with bucket and shovel in hand, I found a newly-rescued, Mr. Toad sitting in the grass giving me the stink eye.
He didn't look very happy with my valiant rescue attempts. I fact, he looked a little pissed. Before I started throwing a little Well what's your problem Mr. Toad???? attitude, it hit me......
Maybe he has worked his whole life to live in the window well. Perhaps in Toadville a cozy little hole in the well is considered prime property, no snakes, no birds....perhaps I had just robbed Mr. Toad of his life long ambitions with a single swoop into the Dora the Explorer sand bucket.
Who do I think I am, to nonchalantly relocate my neighbor into the big, exposed, backyard without even asking?
I felt kind of bad. I apologized to Mr. Toad but he continued just to stare. Then I thought maybe it's just Mr. Toad's nature to be kind of grumpy.
So I watered the geraniums.
Yeah, slow day at the Schichtel household.
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Old Toad’s Wisdom
by Karen Douglass
Hear me out. I know
this window well where I live
is not the universe but is
my world, safe from fox or cat,
disguised by drifted leaves
that make a carpet and a bed.
Bugs and worms fall in. I’m fed.
The householder, every spring,
leans down like God
to clear away the mess, not touching me
for fear I’d break. He’s right.
His grasp could crush my bones.
And, he delights in keeping me,
a live tableau behind the glass
above his cellar work bench.
His lips move as he hammers,
the words a rumor never heard; pity,
we might pay mutual attention,
though he’s too tall for toad wisdom,
does not see his life’s a larger window well
where days drift in to cover him.
Love the slow days. Sitting on the porch with the kids, lilacs are blooming...I am listening to the trees and not thinking about special diets, blood draws or the impending trip to Childrens...ok just thought about it. Back to the lilacs.
Playdate??
Or...maybe frogs and toads alike know they have a special place at your house. :)
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