I've noticed, with my choice of movie clips in this activity, that my inner child has a strong connection with frogs (or toads). I hadn't realised that before doing this.
I can also think of two connections between frogs and me in my life - like Ulmer's activities, I'll write this in the third person to see if that gives me an external view of my internal experience (or something like that anyway :) )
Where's Beany Frog?
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| This is my Beany Frog |
With a child's simplicity of thought, Beany Frog was exactly that - a bean-bag frog, handmade with big, bulbous, beady eyes. He was probably more of a toad, the adults thought, but to her he was Beany Frog.
He had a pleasant hissy, floppy way of moving and was a satisfying, dense and comforting weight in her small hands. And then one day, he was gone.
"Where did you last have him?" she was asked. That was a silly question - he was Beany Frog, he was
always there. But not this time.
She was very upset, nothing could replace him - he left a space in her life much bigger than would be expected for a beanbag toy. She learnt what it meant to lose something important, something that, for all the wishing in the world, couldn't be brought back, not even by her parents and they could do
anything!
One day, many years in the future, the family were packing up the house to move to a foreign land. The mother was sorting old toys and games into piles - for charity, for friends, for keeping. Then, she laughed and her sensible, grown-up daughter looked to see why.
As her mother turned, she held up a non-descript bundle of floppy material. The beans hissed through the flexible body and Beany Frog appeared. The daughter took him and felt the satisfying weight in her sensible, grown-up hand. She put him on her pile of belongings to move with the family.
He was back; he would stay this time. He was Beany Frog and he was
always there.
Treefrogs in Canada
Two friends, Q and Z, sat down to talk. They had finished their undergraduate study and they wanted to celebrate.
The money saved this year wasn't in a pot for university; time for a holiday. They didn't have to be back for the new academic year, they were free.
And, they agreed, they were going to Canada - big spaces, big skies, big bagels. Q had family there, an aunt and uncle, a place they could stay, and they would travel to other places, take their time and absorb and learn.
The aunt and uncle lived in a house in a national park, a protected area. Z had just completed her degree in zoology, and was in seventh heaven, much to the concern of Q and her aunt.
"Just so long as I don't wake up and find you've brought the frogs into the house!" Q said.
Because there were frogs -
hundreds of frogs. Z listened to them that first night, what a glorious sound! (
Listen to the treefrog (c)
Doug Von Gausig) In the daytime, she peeped behind the postbox, under the eaves, any dark place and there they were, snug in the shade and peeping back. At night, they came out, covering the ground - little frogs everywhere.
She found, if she sat on the ground and stayed very still, they would come to her. They didn't like any sudden movement; they vanished when her friend tried to take a picture so the only memory remains in her mind.
She would sit there with tiny frogs over and around her; she was a thing to be climbed. Best of all was when they wandered up her hands - if she moved very slowly, she could bring the hand closer and look at the tiny creature holding on to her finger with perfect fingerpads. The careful way they would turn, placing each finger gently; the speed they would jump away if she moved too quickly. She learned to move calmly and s l o w l y.
She would look at the frog, and the frog would look at her, and time stopped - for as long as the frog chose to stay.
