I stood looking at I had no idea what, Penny leased on my left, as we mulled over what it might mean for us. I glanced down at Penny who was relaxed but on alert. She moved her ears some, her tail was up but still. She seemed content to wait so it was up to me. We both seemed intrigued as we looked and pondered.
We were standing outside of an opening that led to a dirt-packed winding path between trees. Not so strange, but this place was just plopped down on the sidewalk in my neighborhood. It did not belong. It had not been there yesterday. The outside perimeter of this place seemed solid and impenetrable. But I could not make out what it was made of, but I found out some days later. I looked at Penny and she looked at me, we agreed to check it out.
When we stepped inside, the first difference we noticed was the air. It was warmish, had movement and smelled faintly of flowers. It reminded me of childhood in the Midwest in the summertime, the after-dinner air when the heat was waning, when we could play outside until dark. The kind of air where lightning bugs flew, and crickets and frogs began to sound. Or the early evening air in spring when I lived in Fresno, air that smelled of citrus blossom and invited me outside to rest in the pool. Pleasant air of memories.
Penny was sensing the change also as her nose was wiggling around, her head following to learn what scents the air carried. With a nose 100,000 times more powerful than mine, I could not know then what she was learning as the moments passed. Interestingly her tongue was moving in and out and she was drooling, like she was tasting the air. I had never seen her do that before.
Before we stepped into this new place, I was full of the chaos of living my life. Confusion of choices, both personal and professional, that chased each other around in my noggin. Choices that were not unwelcome, just that there we too many of them. I also struggled daily with the fatigue, depression, and pain of Fibromyalgia. My world contained many joys and pleasures, but I was always seeking rest and respite from it all.
With each breath, I noticed my mind calming down. As the noises of traffic, leaf blowers and hammering faded, so did the chaos of thought in my head. I also found the Fibro symptoms easing and my body softening and opening up. The air as it came into my lungs felt bubbly with an energy that moved around my body. It felt great, but I did not want to trust it, it felt too much like a high. Penny was experiencing it also, for now she was dancing and pulling at the lease eager to move on.
As we walked along, I took a look around. The trees on either side of the path were in spring leaf, the new bright green before the deeper green of summer. The grasses underneath were pushing up through the brown, dried grass of winter. There were a few small flowering plants, mostly at the edges of the trail. I saw nothing moving but heard a myriad of sounds. wheezes, caws, chatter, harrumphs, and a deep thumping. Nothing unpleasant or disturbing, rather soothing in fact, but unrecognized.
Penny could hardly contain herself and pulled at the leash. She was eyes, ears and body all focused on something ahead and whining to be free. No barks or growls to warn me. Quickly I moved forward, not fast enough for her however, as her walk became a fast tail-waging trot as she pulled me along. We rounded the curve to the left and came into an open area with a pond just off center to the left. Ringed by boulders, cattails, bushes, and more flowering plants the pond was full of frogs. I unclipped her leash and Penny jumped over to say hello. Concerned she might fall in, but she didn’t this time, I went to her side. The frogs welcomed us with frogy song. But with all the different voices, it was not cacophony, but a strange harmony. Big granddaddy bullfrogs whose throats ballooned out with sound, to little bitty ones that never seemed to stop hopping about. Frogs of all colors, shapes, and sizes. On the rocks, on the grass, on the bush branches and in the water. Such energy and seeming joy at hopping around. Penny was transfixed, not knowing which one to greet. I found a spot where I could lean back and enjoy the show.
Looking around, I realized that the pond was the dead-end of a small creek. I could see where it emerged from under the greenery and wondered where it came from. The water burbled and gurgled as it moved in and splashed a bit as it hit the rocks. It then must have dived down to come out I wondered where. Behind me was a low wall of the same type of rock. Grasses and flowers poked out amidst them, and the ground in front was covered by bent grass like something rested there regularly. To the right from where we came into the clearing was a wider well-trod path that went off beyond the trees. That path connected to one going left behind the pond and I could see that the trees there were taller and closer together, more like a forest. The wall of boulders behind me tapered down and disappeared into the bushes on the other side of the pond. Atop of the low wall was grass path that came from another grove of trees. I guessed that the several ways in would bring those needing a drink. But what? But who?
I moved back and leaned against the wall, comfortable in the spot well used. I listened and heard the sounds of birds, bugs and bees. A gentle background hum that was soothing. I took a deep breath and was still, relaxed inside and out. As I quieted, some of the frogs ventured towards me. Penny was flat on her tummy, with her back legs out like a seal on a beach. She was watching, like I, the frogs exiting the pond to come toward me. Amazed I realized they did not fear us. Even when Penny would make a ruff of hello, they did not stop. Perhaps they could not hear dog talk. I slowly moved to see if that would deter them, nope — they kept on coming. Even granddaddy bullfrog hopped to a closer perch before settling down with a ballooning croak. Although there were several dozen frogs, medium to small, bumpy and smooth, toady and elegant, colored and plain I was not alarmed. When they reached me, some hopped up on my lap and legs. Penny wiggled on her stomach to watch, noise twitching and ears up. When one would jump on me her tail would wag, like “I approve.” I began to grin with all my attention focused on my frog party. They would come, find a spot, give a croak greeting and settle down. Soon I was surrounded by frogs—on me or in the grass beside me. Penny settled in and so did I. Three tiny ones sat in the palm of my left hand. Penny was close enough on my right that I slid my fingers into her coat. Ah, peace came.
My world had disappeared; the only reality was the frogs and their pond. Thank you God, I said quietly, filled with gratitude. An unexpected gift, a wonder that blessed me and cradled me in a peace that was foreign, not any kind of peace that I could find in the world. I looked over at Penny, her eyes were closed and her breathing regular. Listening, the frog sounds were quiet with only a faint hum, like an engine running somewhere always away. Not intrusive, but a sound of life. I thought maybe I am hearing the stream that feeds the pond.
I don’t know how long I was there, if I feel asleep, but as if a signal had been given, the frogs returned to their home. Most disappeared into the undergrowth around the pond, some jumped in and swam away. Granddaddy was the last to go. He left with a tongue flick, a soft croak, a hop and the pond was empty. Penny stood up, had a good shake, went over to the pond, and looked around. Satisfied, she came over, sat down, and looked up at me. Time to go I said, clicked on her leash and we walked back the way we came, out and home.
