NOT MY ROCK

I was out on the deck in the beauty of yesterday afternoon to survey the overall scene of my firewooding and gardening labors - and lay further plans - when, leaning on the rail I glanced at one of the hefty rocks I keep there to hold down the large flat bamboo basket I use to keep the heavy mountain snow off the satellite dish, when I noticed something odd: the rock had a small green nose.

Bending low and getting close in for a better view, I found myself eye-to-eye with a very flat green frog indeed, an otherwise normally dimensioned amphibian who had carefully jiggered and hunkered his way backwards into the very low-ceilinged space beneath the rock, there to stay damp and cool and utterly safe from hawks and crows, while yet maintaining access to the rich bug life passing by within tongue reach on the local air and rail thoroughfares.

His dark eye paid little attention to my massive temporary intrusion, he simply continued doing nothing very comfortably, thank you; he was sitting about as pretty as possible, frogwise. I'd had it in mind to move the rock, now that winter is over and anyway the oak leaves have cut off my satellite signal so who cares about snow on a satellite dish, but if the frog has such an inventive architectural use for the rock, who am I to interfere? It's not really MY rock, anyway.