One day a couple of years ago, Saint Patrick’s Day to be specific, we had the usual Irish-American tradition of corned beef and cabbage, potatoes, and carrots. My best friend, being Irish and having his own recipes, cooked the meal for us in the slow cooker.
The smells of fresh beef and pungent spices wafted the house. By the time the meal was done, we had put up a new dinette light, painted the foyer and a living room wall, and made sure our dogs weren’t getting into mischief. It was a full day, indeed.
We ate supper in our sunroom for a change of pace. We enjoyed looking at the deep-pink azalea shrubs in the early dusk of the evening, as we discussed our week ahead. It was an eclectic conversation, to say the least. That’s how we roll.
In the midst of me chewing a bite of corned beef topped with very fresh horseradish, its searing vapors rose through my nose. Then my friend cried out, “There’s a frog in the yard. Look! Look! I just saw it hop around.”
I didn’t see anything at first. “Is it bigger than the one the dogs found yesterday?”
“Yes, much bigger. Whoa! Look! There it is, sitting there,” he blurted, pointing his finger towards a far end of the yard. “It’s blue!”
What I saw was a blue spot in the greenish grass. I grabbed my phone and turned on the camera. I took a picture through the storm door.
“I’m going out closer. I need a few pictures,” and I gently opened the storm door and crept outside.
I took another picture of the blue frog. It was frozen as I tip-toed closer. I took another picture. As I gazed upon its bright blue-ness, surprised that blue frogs exist, I noticed its long leg looked odd, almost broken or twisted. Slowly, I went in closer. And closer. And closer.
I started laughing and turned towards my friend standing by the windows. He asked why I was laughing.
“It’s not a frog. It’s some piece of plastic!”
“What? You’re kidding.”
He went outside and brought in the “blue frog,” a.k.a. “the/plastic piece.”
It turned out to be a piece of a decomposed shopping bag. It was clever how it posed so perfectly in the grass, teasing us with its impression of a blue Kermit the Frog.
After our laughter died down and we resumed eating, my friend looked out the window. “I can see the sunset from here between the tree branches. It’s like a small flaming ball.”
THAT turned out to be a street light.
We think it’s time for him to get new glasses.
But then, maybe we can wait. I’m starting to enjoy his “misperceptions.”
©2022, excerpt from “Tales from Yodel-O Land”