I drag the pestle across the wooden toad’s
arched ridge so it may croak. When I first
heard the sound, the realization that who-
ever carved the little dude, hollowed out its
middle to resonate and giving him a toady-
shaped credibility had been artful.
I want to believe this was done ages ago,
before power tools, before electric lights,
before marketing and mass production. It
could have been, considering it began as a
frog-sized block of wood that some cave man
could have hand carved with flint.
So simple in its beauty and sound, such an
honoring of nature. Have these carvings
been around since the discovery of fire?
Have frogs ever been elevated to gods?
How can a post Ferrari man be so enamored?
This is a careful gift chosen by one who knows us.