Jeepers, Creepers

Pacific Tree Frog

I wanted to write “Toad in the Hole,” but she’s actually a Pacific Tree Frog, otherwise known as a peeper. These little creatures are the auditory signal of spring around here. They let us know our woodstove-packing days are dwindling and cold mornings are receding as they cavort in the forest during their first rollicking orgy of the year. When the weather gets hot they gravitate to cooler, damper realms.
She found her way inside our bathroom sink this morning. I was poised above the sink with a sponge, ready to clean it when she stuck her head out of an overflow hole. I have much to thank her and her ancestors for. For one thing, I had no idea those overflow holes were so filthy! You can’t see them normally unless you bend over to say, photograph a tiny tree frog. Then last spring we found several of them sleeping on the inside of the door to the electrical meter, as if guarding us from the dangers of an obsolete electrical box.
When an electrician arrived to replace the box, he had to temporarily remove the meter. Here's what he found:

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I’ll patiently wait for you to find your way back to coherence. I myself had to sift through the five stages of bewilderment: shock, disgust, laughter, compassion and finally, acceptance.
In the meantime, listen to the Pacific Tree Frogs.
 
So we’re at it again. Renovating the outbuilding that houses Silverlining Designs, The El Wayno Loco Show, the laundry, and storage. What originally seemed like a simple plan to remodel the space, the ensuing weeks spawned a massive overhaul including a new roof, new walls, pulling a 1930s Oldsmobile frame out of the woods and redirecting a seasonal creek. I was perfectly happy with that seasonal creek coming down the ravine behind us and flowing under my office during the winter, as it’s a post and tier affair. “Hey, a river runs through it,” I always said. But the creek bed had been widening, so it was time to fill it in.
This one is Wayne’s baby. He’s been scheming to redesign this space for years, and it’s finally his turn.
Not this again, I thought, imagining the demolition, the noise, the very upheaval of my life.
But it’s an outbuilding and my office is still intact. I have a new Yamaha electric piano adjacent to my computer, so I can swivel around and play a tune whenever I want.
My new role is The Producer. I like this new arrangement. I nod and write checks, and approve this and that, making the occasional comment or revision. I did, however, insulate under the new floor before the heat became 104° outside yesterday.
The tiny tree frog must have shown up this morning for comic relief. Our woodland creatures have a way of doing that around here, I swear.