Child Philip - Frog Journal
Entry Eight, April 4th, 1615
Upon discovery of my frog drawings, Caleb returned with a most peculiar shaped rock. I dare say, his insistence that it resembled my drawing proved true. With a bit of coal and a sharpened stick, I made a charming little fellow to introduce to my dear friend Peepers by the creek.
Caleb made a second rock friend, and I must say, I was pleased with the result. It was a darling set of frog brothers, well on their way to becoming witch hunters, defenders of the village!
But my dear brother is senseless at times, and made an unnecessary third. He insisted the little frog should have a mother and a father, in that wretchedly sentimental voice he uses when he prays for our departed parentsā souls. He asked me if I remembered the time Mother walked us along the river collecting brambleberries. I felt such pity for Caleb that I lied. Yes, yes, we ate so many berries and oh, I do remember being the voracious little devil that ate both mine and half of Calebās basket! But in truth, I hardly remember our parents from before the sickness took them. I pray the memory of their passing should fade as well.
Honestly, I believe we are better off as Caleb and I. There are fewer mouths to feed, and fewer adults to find fault with our diversions. Caleb is all the family I require. But as Caleb made a third frog, I commit āthe three frogs amongst the bramblesā to my journal:
Calebās happy vision of the three-frog family was lacking a sibling. I informed Caleb of his oversight, and he returned in the afternoon with a fourth offering for our rock family. Distressingly, he had not made a brother frog, but a brother bird! He was adamant that the red rock was meant to be a cardinal. I know he fancies the birds, but oh, God is testing me with this foolish brother of mine!
What games would a cardinal and frog play together? What unnatural union would produce frog and bird siblings? I do not approve, but in my love for Caleb I shall commit āthe unholy bird amongst the frogsā to my journal:
I find myself questioning where Caleb secured the pigment for the white of the cardinalās eye. He would not reveal his sources, so I am left to conclude it came from the droppings of widow Aldenās hens. On our walk home, Misses Aldenās chickens flocked to Caleb, as birds are apt to do. Though he attempted discretion, I observed Caleb removing grainseed from his pocket to entice the hens closer. He made the most absurd clucking noises at the birds, as if he were a member of their flock. The birds investigated our frog family as well, much to my dismay. āThe pale, brown-eyed henā reminded me of Caleb:
However, the ādemon yellow-eyed birdā was insufferable, glaring at me with ill-intent:
She attempted a peck at the frog rock, to which Caleb mistook as, ābut a kiss!ā At times it seems I am the only one keeping our family safe from such corruption. Despite the birdly intrusion, the visit to the brambles was lovely. And I do so look forward to seeing Peepers the next time we play by the creek. I think he will like frog Philip.
I thoroughly enjoyed @a-magpie-in-gravesfieldās frog rock memory celebration. Here are a couple of bonus pictures of the rocks. Details are in charcoal (pencil) and I used white pastel (not bird droppings :D) for the white of Flapjackās eyes. In modern day, Flapjackās left eye is scarred. But it likely isnāt during Calebās time.
Happy rock decorating to all!
