Tenacity to Endure

I kneeled down to inspect my azalea which seems reluctant to bloom.  And saw movement.  An eighteen-toed vertebrate the length of my pointy finger, was shifting his position on a rock.  A gray tree frog. He or maybe she became as still as the granite he perched on.  Looking like a tiny little dragon of ancient way back when I think to myself, "Does he notice me?"  I wonder about his life in and around my giant hosta leaves, far from a pond.  Ancient and terrestrial.  His frog predecessors lived 370 million years ago in a soggy marsh. Pterodactyl rode the air currents and Brachiosaurus munched on trees.  Lots of symbols here I don't take lightly anymore.  Frogs symbolize transformation, potential and fertility - tadpole to frog and all.  And longevity.  A gray tree frog can live up to seven years roaming my hostas' underbelly and the hopping around the leaves of azalea that won't bloom.  Twenty if I caught and caged him.  And tenacity to endure.  Frogs in the Arctic Circle survive for weeks in a frozen limbo state.  Glucose forms an antifreeze in her blood.  I see you little tree frog. You could be me. That three-leaf clover maybe worn as an accessory for her warty head, symbolizes not only new life to my sleepy springtime garden but faith, love, and hope.  And the brown and crispy leaf in the rear. Lingering from last fall's freeze. Decay and sadness for sure but hope and renewal as well.  I'll take all that on a Sunday morning after a long night's rain. I breathe in my garden full of life and wonder and meaning. Deep and spiritual, if I choose to look at it that way.