All summer long there has been a toad or frog that has escaped my dogs, and various other preying jaws. Around mid-day it starts chortling out this hypnotizing song, wah-ah-ah-ah, wah-ah-ah-ah, almost like an old man gargling or testing out his raspy throat before a speech. He changes pitch, sometimes softer, other times with more insistence. I think he's patiently, steadily seeking mates. His routine soothes my angst, I'll miss him when he's gone.
In the past decade I have written memoirs for a nun, tutored children from Somalia, edited a college literary magazine, interned at Literary Arts in Portland, published a few stories, graduated from University with highest honors, given a speech to a packed house at the Schnitz, remodeled a fixer-upper, written grants for programs that helped, extended my emotional /intellectual horizons, made an intra-state move, started a business, regained my groove, placed my finger back on the pulse, joined Facebook, Pinterest and LinkedIn, bought a smartphone, traveled, raised puppies, and most importantly--honed my writing skills. I bare myself here on The Paper Garden and hope some moments will resonate with you.