Got the tax stuff delivered to the accountant, laptop to the shop, car washed and waxed,banking stuff all by early afternoon.it rained off and on all day, but I do believe the sun is shining this morning.


More of From Within.

 Making a decision, Nat slowly moved to a kneeling position then focusing on the two small bumps that were the nearest frog’s eyes he inched forward.  After a few minutes his body started to quiver, from tension or the desire for food he didn’t know and didn’t care.  Finally judging that he was close enough he leaped, grabbing at the spot where the two eyes were showing!  His hands closed, grabbing slime, grass and nothing else!  “Shit!” He cried aloud.  He sat back on his haunches, ‘that won’t work, how am I going to catch any of these little buggers?’

 He thought for a while, got to his feet, took off his boots and socks then the rest of his clothes.  He sat back and waited and waited some more. Finally on the far side of the pond a croak, again followed by another.  He rose to his feet and jumped out into the middle of the slime-ridden pool yelling and screaming. He flailed his arms and stomped on the bottom churning the water into a muddy soup.  He stomped from one side of the pool to the other still splashing and yelling, back and forth, back and forth.  He paused and looked about, yes, by god it worked! Around the pool frogs were hopping away, away from the commotion in their pool.

 He waded to the nearest side and on hands and knees caught one, two, three, six he dropped one.  Holding the rest by their legs he whacked them onto a jutting rock, dropped them then continued with his pursuit, this time killing them as he went and tossing them into a loose pile.

 Fifteen dead frogs later, he gathered them all together and proceeded to butcher the two hind legs from each small carcass.  He smiled as he worked remembering the one time he had eaten frog’s legs. That time they were almost the size of a grouse’s drumstick; the French wine he had washed them down with certainly wasn’t bad either.

 Finally finished he laid them in a small pile on some willow leaves then set about gathering up twigs and dry leaves.  Under the willows there was a good quantity of dead twigs from previous year’s growth, they were dry in spite of the rain from two nights earlier.  When he thought he had enough he went to where his clothes were heaped and reached into his pants’ pocket for the lighter he had salvaged from the plane.  It wasn’t there! He frantically searched his other pockets; through the knapsack, Fred’s pants pockets, it was gone! “Gone.” He moaned aloud.  “I must have lost it in the river. Oh Christ!  Now what?”  He sat back, his face twisted in despair; he lowered his head onto his bent knees but suddenly looked up again.  “What the hell Nat, what’s a little rare meat, juicier that way!”

 He went to his little mound of legs, picked one up, put one end in his mouth and started to chew. ‘This won’t work’ he thought as he chewed the flesh from the tiny bone and spat out the skin.  He took out the knife again and laboriously scraped the meat off the remaining twenty-nine legs.  When he was finished he picked up the little gobs of meat and chewed, spat skin and swallowed what was left.  As he ate he unconsciously swatted at first one then another then another mosquito.