The Frog Who Wouldn't Sing
Saturday mornings usually began with birdsong.
By the time the sun peeked through the tall ponderosa pines, the forest was already awake. Mountain Chickadees chattered from the branches, robins searched for breakfast in the grass, and squirrels scampered from tree to tree.
But on this morning...
something was missing.
As Goldie and Mitch followed the familiar path toward Young's Mill, they both stopped at exactly the same moment.
Goldie looked around.
"Do you hear that?"
Mitch stood quietly for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
"The frogs."
Goldie nodded.
"They're not singing."
The old waterwheel at Young's Mill turned steadily as water splashed over its wooden paddles.
Creak... splash... creak... splash...
Dragonflies skimmed low across the pond.
A red-winged blackbird called from the cattails.
The breeze whispered through the tall pines.
Everything looked exactly the way it always did.
Except...
not a single frog croaked.
Goldie's ears drooped just a little.
"I hope they're all right."
"I do too," Mitch said softly.
"Let's go see."
Together they wandered around the pond.
They peeked beneath broad lily pads.
They searched beside the tall cattails.
They looked across warm sunlit rocks where frogs often liked to rest.
Mitch even knelt beside the muddy shoreline, studying tiny footprints.
"I don't see anything unusual," he said.
Just then...
a brilliant blue dragonfly drifted down and landed on one of the wooden paddles of the old waterwheel.
The slowly turning wheel carried him gently upward.
Goldie giggled.
"He's riding the mill!"
Just before reaching the very top, the dragonfly lifted effortlessly into the air and circled above the pond.
"I wish I could fly like that," Goldie whispered.
Mitch smiled.
"I think I'd spend all day looking at everything from above."
Goldie grinned.
"And I'd fly low enough to hear the frogs singing."
They both looked back toward the pond.
Still...
the pond remained silent.
Just then, Grandma Larkspur appeared along the path, carrying her little gathering basket.
As soon as the dragonfly saw her, he zipped through the air, circled her once...
then twice...
before gently landing on the brim of her straw hat.
The children stared.
"Grandma!" Goldie laughed.
"He's bowing to you!"
The tiny dragonfly dipped forward ever so slightly.
Grandma smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Skipper."
"Does he know you?" Mitch asked.
"Oh yes," Grandma said.
"We've been friends for many summers."
She looked carefully at the little dragonfly.
"My goodness..."
"You look a little hungry today."
Just then, a tiny mosquito drifted nearby.
Before anyone could blink...
Zip!
Skipper darted from Grandma's hat, neatly caught the mosquito in midair, and returned to his perch.
Goldie clapped her little paws.
"I didn't even see him move!"
Grandma laughed softly.
"Neither did the mosquito."
The children laughed with her.
Goldie looked up at Grandma.
"How did you become friends?"
Grandma smiled as she watched Skipper preen his wings.
"He had only just climbed out of the pond," she said.
"He clung to a cattail while his new wings dried in the sunshine."
Goldie tilted her head.
"Did you help him?"
Grandma gently shook her head.
"No."
"He already knew what he needed to do."
" I simply made him company."
"When his wings were finally ready..."
"...he flew straight onto my hat."
She touched the brim with one finger and smiled.
"And he's been checking in on me ever since."
Goldie smiled.
"I think he remembers your kindness."
"I believe he does," Grandma replied.
Then Goldie looked back toward the quiet pond.
"Grandma...where did all the frogs go?"
Grandma smiled.
"They're still here."
"But they aren't singing."
Grandma sat on a smooth rock beside the pond.
"Not every quiet moment means something is wrong."
"Sometimes frogs sing loudly when they're looking for a mate."
"Sometimes they grow quiet when danger is nearby."
"And sometimes..."
"...they simply rest."
"Just like us."
Everyone became quiet.
No one searched anymore.
No one spoke.
They simply listened.
After a minute...
Croak.
Goldie's ears perked up.
Another.
Then another.
Soon frogs all around the pond joined in until the air was filled with cheerful croaks once again.
Grandma smiled without saying a word.
"They just weren't ready," Goldie whispered.
Grandma nodded.
"Everyone has their own reasons for speaking..."
"...and their own reasons for being silent."
Skipper lifted from Grandma's hat and glided gracefully across the pond.
"He makes flying look easy," Goldie said.
"He does," Grandma agreed.
"But I imagine he worked very hard to learn."
Goldie watched him hover effortlessly before darting away.
"It doesn't even look like work."
Grandma smiled.
"Sometimes the things that look the easiest..."
"...have taken the most practice."
She looked toward Skipper.
"Just because someone carries something well..."
"...doesn't mean it isn't heavy."
Goldie watched the little dragonfly disappear into the sunshine.
"So...just because Skipper flies so beautifully..."
"...doesn't mean it was always easy?"
Grandma nodded.
" He was once a tiny dragonfly with wet wings, waiting until they were ready to carry him."
"And now..."
"...he makes it look effortless."
Mitch smiled thoughtfully.
"I guess we never really know what someone has worked through."
Grandma returned his smile.
"No..."
"We don't."
"And that's one more reason to be kind."
That evening, Brightseed Burrow was filled with the cozy sounds of supper.
Zinny stood at the kitchen table, preparing tomorrow's bread while a kettle of wild currant tea warmed gently on the stove. She hummed quietly as she worked, measuring flour into a large wooden bowl.
Goldie watched for a moment.
Then Mitch gently nudged her.
Their eyes met.
Neither of them said a word.
Together they hurried across the room.
"Can we help?" Goldie asked.
Zinny looked up, surprised.
"Well..."
She smiled.
"I certainly wouldn't say no."
Mitch reached for the flour sack while Goldie gathered the clean towels and set them neatly on the table.
Soon the work went much faster.
When everything was finished, Zinny brushed a little flour from her apron and looked at the two of them.
"My goodness."
"This was a lovely surprise."
Goldie gave a little shrug.
"We just thought you might like some company."
For just a moment, Zinny was quiet.
Then she smiled the warmest smile.
"I would."
"And I did."
"Thank you, my sugar-seeds."
Mitch and Goldie smiled at one another.
They didn't need to explain.
Sometimes...
the kindest thing you can do...
is simply make someone company.