Tubby The Tuba Has Nothing On Me!

[Day Sixteen: Third Time’s the Charm: Prompt: Imagine you had a job in which you had to sift through forgotten or lost belongings. Describe a day in which you come upon something peculiar, or tell a story about something interesting you find in a pile.]

* * *

We had been in the house many times before, but now it was different. It was quiet, the voices silenced. We had no notion of the enormity of the job of sorting through 59 years of two lives united for better or worse. Yes, I spent most of my days here, tending the needs of the sick and dying, and had even resided here, before I went off to live my own life 18 years prior, and make mountains of stuff, which would have to be packed up and brought 1600 miles back this way.

The difference is, that was my stuff, and this was theirs. But now it was ours and we had to work to determine what would be useful, what was difficult to release, and what was easy enough to just dump. There were six rooms, an attic, and a place under the stairs which led to the lower level, where, it seems, all I’d left behind, had been shoved.

There were many ‘finds’ as we began the task. What books were filling the darkened library shelves. In all the years I spent living in houses which contained these books, I’d perhaps read one or two. Still the harder part would be to fit all of our own books into these shelves, along side the ancient tomes.

These shelves, however, held greater surprises than we could have imagined. There was one day, as I was pulling out the implements of sculptors, – creepy, sharpened blades that made one think or Jack the Ripper rather than tools of a budding Michaelangelo, – leaving us wondering, “who were these people?” The amount of art supplies held a mixture of said ‘blades’ and oil and acrylic paints, sketch pads and canvases, plus all manner of do-it-yourself lamp kits and other household items.

Finally as the last pieces were brought forth, and the shelves were being cleaned off of the years of dust, I shined a flashlight in to make sure I’d gotten everything out. But, I had not. There, up against the furthest wall on the bottom shelf, I saw a light gray… sculpture? I peered in closer and saw the extraordinary tiny frog, quite a beautiful piece. As I reached in to pick it up, imagine my surprise when the sculpture jumped, or more preciesly lept away from my hand toward the back of the shelf! This wasn’t a stone carving, no. This was a living and breathing frog, so tiny, so light in color that it both surprised me, and at the same time, enchanted me.

tree-frog

Such a tiny creature, living down here, in the half basement. Where did it come from? How did it get in? I could only imagine it might have been in the third bathroom, which was located down here. Or had he gotten in through the chimney?

We named him Pierre. I left him alone, to find a new nook in which to hide. I saw him two more times, outside the shelves, huddled up by the back wall between the end of the bookcase, and the outside wall of the room.

I thought it was ever so cool! Mr. Quantum, didn’t want any part of it.

As the days went by, and we got more and more things moved out of the old house and moved into this house, I had chance to meet up with two more of these amazing little wonders. One was in the trunk of our car. But not just hanging around in the trunk, rather in the door well. This time I thought it was a crumpled up light brown leaf, which I went to brush out of there, and, oops! There it goes, jumping into the trunk. As he sat there, I gently reached in and picked him up, as tiny as can be, his little body huffing, and I cooed to him, telling him I was just getting him out of harms way, and brought him to the lilac bush which was next to the car. I set him down on the ground, and wished him a good day.

Finger Frog

That night, I went online to look for what kind of frog it was, and I found the happy information that he was one of the entrancing tree frogs, whose calls I would wait for every summer. The glee which touched my soul was immense!

One of the last things we boxed up was our deck table, and we had to take it apart – a good thing I kept the how-to-put-it-together instructions – which made it easy for us to put things in such a way as to be able to put it together once we had it at the other house. Well, lo and behold, as I turned over the heavy stand, so we could slide the glass table off the base, there, hiding underneath the intricately carved iron, was another little tree frog friend! Talk about Third Time’s the Charm!

I brought him over to the lilac bush, and set him down. I told him to watch out for lawn mower blades, and wished him a peaceful life. My connection to these wonderful creatures is my greatest memory of the move.

As I write this, I’m still waiting to hear the first crickets and the first tree frogs singing their mating songs. Perhaps the music they make will carry the whispers of my little friends to me, who brought such deep joy to an otherwise daunting task.

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10 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. calensariel
    Apr 27, 2015 @ 14:10:55

    Absolutely enchanting! Loved the pictures. You are SO much like me. (Though I wonder how I’d do with a frog!) Do no harm… It’s a beautiful precept to live by. Really, really, REALLY loved this!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Apr 27, 2015 @ 18:45:17

      Thank you!!! And YAY! I love being like you, since I admire you so much! You wouldn’t have a problem with the frog. If you held such a precious being in your hand, and felt its little heart beating, it would take your breath away, as it did mine.
      Aye, that truly is me, ‘do no harm.’ 🙂

      Like

      Reply

  2. Walking My Path: Mindful Wanderings in Nature
    Apr 27, 2015 @ 17:01:55

    What a very cool little creature! Love this!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Apr 27, 2015 @ 18:47:33

      Thank you! Yes, they were so amazing! And I had no idea, every summer as I’d listen to their mating songs what they looked like, but it always made my heart happy sitting and listening to them. Now I can sit outside, at night (if summer ever gets here lol) and remember the thread that connects me to them.

      Like

      Reply

  3. platosgroove
    Apr 28, 2015 @ 16:34:23

    Love the frogs! Great story

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Apr 28, 2015 @ 18:18:06

      Thank you Sir. (coz I know it’s the Southern way, having lived in Texas). 😉
      Those little guys were the best! I’m still waiting to hear anything come out in the night here, but we’ve got half a month to go before the last frost hits the road.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  4. Ish
    Apr 30, 2015 @ 13:33:54

    What an enchanting story! well told….

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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