Things so common in the Philippines seems such a rare treat when you happen upon them here in Amerika. The frogs that are in our garden, who’s croaking can be heard in the quite of the night are one of those treats. Although frogs, indigenous most places in the world where the environment can support them, my memories are of frogs found in the rice fields of the Philippines.
Memories now important, that were then simply another warm evening in our darkened second story bedroom. The squatter’s karaoke and drunken voices singing an obscure Barry Manilow song have finally fallen silent, at first the only sounds in the room is that of my wife sleeping and the tic tic tic of the electric fan rotating too and fro pushing air to keep us cool. With the days events and those of tomorrow processing in my mind a gentle solitaire croak of a frog in the rice field interrupts my thoughts, buurrum it calls.
buurrum, where are you my love the frog repeats. Soon the stillness of the night, the sounds of my wife sleeping and the tic tic tic of the fan are replaced by the sounds of hundreds of frogs forming a chorus chirping, buurrum, buurrum, buurrum, buurrum, each I imagine calling; where are you my love, I am here my darling ….
One of the frogs in our garden.