The daughter’s college boyfriend spent the weekend at our house. Hiram and I were on our best behavior, trying not to embarrass our daughter in the presence of her guest by picking our noses or passing gas, which our daughter considers cute and even adorable behavior in infants and toddlers but not from parents. We did pretty well, though things got a bit dicey for those who ate beans at the Mexican restaurant Saturday night.
Anyway, after the boyfriend left Sunday evening, Hiram asked Anne if our house had been a big disappointment to the young chap. “He loved it, Dad,” Anne replied. “You tend to forget we live in paradise.”
Her comment opened my eyes again to the loveliness of our roomy farmhouse (circa 1845) that has aged remarkably well. With this being a June of abundant rainfall, the grounds are at their best, all green grass, shady trees, and late spring flowers.
We do live in paradise, I reminded myself this morning as I walked along our gravel road. Climbing the hill, I enjoyed the calm winds, the pleasant temperature, the low humidity, and the birds chirping with gusto. Well, I enjoyed it until something underfoot nearly tripped me and stopped me in my tracks. A warty, bumpy, frowning toad hopped along, where the gravel road surrenders to asphalt, before he paused and gave me the evil eye.
Whoa! I don’t know what the toad was pondering while I snapped his photo, but I was wondering whose idea it was to let a toad into my paradise? A second, more disturbing question came to mind later, after I cleaned up and got to work: Did some malevolent old woman, intent on destroying young love, waylay the daughter’s boyfriend on his way down the road and turn him into a toad?
For today, I’m keeping that disturbing question to myself. But tonight, after I wiretap the daughter’s evening phone call to the boyfriend, and hopefully hear him talk instead of croak, I’ll rest easier. Once I’m sure he’s not been transformed into an amphibian, I’m posting some new rules for protecting paradise: NO BEANS OR TOADS ALLOWED.
Just want to keep the riff raff out of paradise and protect the boyfriend. We kinda like him.
