I have nothing to write tonight.
It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I ALWAYS have something to say…
I have a list of post ideas that I want to write, and a head full of half sentences that need an ending, but still… tonight I have nothing to write.
I can hear the frogs.
They must be loud for their song to travel through our newly insulated walls and penetrate the constant hum of the heater.
I wonder how many are out there, in the huge puddles of water that cover most of the paddocks.
I never see them unless they get trapped in a bucket left out by the kids.
Sometimes I dig them up in the garden, but then it is usually only half a frog, and it has been too wet for gardening.
Sometimes I think I see them, out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head in time to see a bubble surface and a ripple spread out across the muddy puddle… but there is no frog.
I wonder if all the puddles will fill with tadpoles when the days get longer… if it ever stops raining.
I imagine our whole property squirming with millions of tadpoles competing for space… and that is a lot like my head right now. So many things all squirming around competing for space.
No wonder I don’t have anything to write tonight.
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