This is the glass frog of the Amazon. As you can see it’s transparent. All of its organs are visible. A wonderful amazing design of nature. But the thing is I love all frogs. If I were to carry around a lucky charm, the frog would be it, except I don’t believe in luck. I believe you make your own.

I’m not sure when this love affair with the frog began. Perhaps there’s a greater meaning to my attraction to them. They are after all, the symbol of transformation, joy and luck. The fairy tale about the frog who’s transformed back into his original self, a prince, or the fact that the creature is born as a tadpole and then turns into a frog. This is all quite meaningful to me, spiritually and creatively. And then there’s a sound the frog makes, a croak, ascribed to witches, the sick and the dying, but I don’t hear anything other the joyful sound of nature, a sound that seems to come from deep down within the belly of the creature, unadulterated and true.

And then sometimes, I’ll hear one of these glorious designs of nature croak from the bottom of one the many ceramic pots I have throughout the yard, that big gentian blue one by the bougainvillea. And it sounds as if it’s Godzilla come for a visit. I peer into the jar and see a little creature not much larger than a jelly bean and I smile hoping he’ll stay a while.