Throughstone #24: The Amphibianess of Being

In New England, there’s that one night. Yes, one night. One night for one night stands. Or maybe it’s one night floats. Regardless, it’s a coming out party, at a scale only Mother Nature can provide.  

It arrives in late March or early April, when there is a barely perceptible, perfect confluence of warmth and moisture, just right for a time-tested trek from a terrestrial bunker to a watery haven. Enveloped by atmospheric moisture for the transitional pilgrimage between land and water, our unassuming amphibian species quietly emerge from their hibernal hideawys under layers of leaves, logs, and ancient stones. They start with stealth and conclude with something between boisterous braggadocio and shrill desperation.  At least that’s what the frogs do. 

The salamanders search for their birthplaces, fish-less ancestral pools where they’ll wiggle frantically, swapping genomes. The swirling clusters of heads and tails are either models of pheromonal discretion or total randomness.

I swear, if we humans ever annihilate ourselves, the amphibians will dominate the earth. They understand full well that we swim, not only in that magical molecular elixir we call water, but also in an atmospheric ocean whose clarity is as invisible as its benevolence. 

Amphibians permeate that fine line between those worlds, habitats distinguished almost exclusively by two different molecular bonds that comprise the boundary between life and death. Somehow, they traverse that line with equanimity – easy-peasy, wet and greasy. 

I pause, pondside, splash water on my neck and forearms, and I practice….breathing through my skin. 

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“Throughstone 250” is a purposefully constrained blog project. As a long-winded Southerner constrained by Vermont’s limited porch season and the Yankee penchant for paragraphs of three words or less, I’ve opted to aim for semi-regular (i.e., consistent in their irregularity) reflections of precisely 250 words for the foreseeable future.

250 means something right now. Maybe more than we anticipated. It’s symbolic but incredibly important…and a 250 word count seems much less constrained than a 5-7-5 syllable count for a haiku. 

Like many others, I’m struggling to make meaning out of these tumultuous days. I’ve always found it useful to try and write my way out of tough spots. Looking for throughstones is just one more effort to try and generate some meaning from the mayhem.

I swear, if we humans ever annihilate ourselves, the amphibians will dominate the earth. They understand full well that we swim, not only in that magical molecular elixir we call water, but also in an atmospheric ocean whose clarity is as invisible as its benevolence. 

Amphibians permeate that fine line between those worlds, habitats distinguished almost exclusively by two different molecular bonds that comprise the boundary between life and death. Somehow, they traverse that line with equanimity – easy-peasy, wet and greasy. 

I pause, pondside, splash water on my neck and forearms, and I practice….breathing through my skin.