You never know… icy, elongated drops are thinning out. While the steadfast grey clouds start to mumble about new horizons. Moving on….
“Mary Two-Toad? Are you listening? Tree says rain will be sailing to the West Hills for a few days. We’re called by tree and squirrel.”
“Mary? Toads have to wake up the world again. We’ve been called. Stop dancing with the lily wallpaper shadows. Dreams end. Get up, Mary Two-Toad.”
The Clatter Snap Toads awaken the world of normal things, raising them back to life with a clatter and a snap, while dancing and singing in a jam-band sort of frolic after every long, long winter rains.
Each county in Lumber Blush United has a “toad team” of varying size and experience. They are called to action by the trees. It is the way.
Here, in Tumble County, my sister and I are called. It’s a small county, and this is our first unsupervised Spring Raising. Beware, this time it’s going to be done our way.
We’re the magical kind of slam dancing, makeshift-kitchen-instrument playing toads, and we’re going to bring the noise.
“Bring the noise,” I got that from my dad’s lexicon.
I think it’s important to incorporate the past with the present to concoct a truly progressive future—*wink*.
“Mary Two-Toad, we’re called!”
Thin, fleeting drops meet our upturned faces, as Mary and I poke our unified front out the kitchen’s heavy screen-door. Mary salutes tree and nods to squirrel.
Jam for spring.
K. Shawn Edgar | Writer | Lover | Cyclist