{"id":18831,"date":"2024-01-26T14:07:37","date_gmt":"2024-01-26T20:07:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/?p=18831"},"modified":"2024-01-26T14:07:40","modified_gmt":"2024-01-26T20:07:40","slug":"frog-weather","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/2024\/01\/26\/frog-weather\/","title":{"rendered":"Frog Weather"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><em>Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit&#8230;<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Recently, it was raining buckets at school. It wasn&#8217;t the worst thing I&#8217;ve seen, but having to walk through shoe-soaking paths with a paper-thin backpack full of important items wasn&#8217;t very funky fresh. Climbing onto the bus, my socks were soaked to the bone, and it would take the entire day for my backpack and purse to completely dry. The bust seats were also watery, I had a dripping umbrella in hand, and the thought that my hair probably looked disastrous nagged at my mind. It was a fun experience to share- I have gladly added it to my brain folder for future writing reference, as I like to collect moments like trading cards- but during the moment, it was nothing special. I joined in on complaining about the weather despite how anxious complaining can make me, because it was complaint-worthy. Doing so did make me feel&#8230; not sad, but not good. Neutral with a side of &#8220;Man. This sucks.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>But then a thought came to me. My braincells aligned themselves in perfect form, and I realized something truly amazing.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-18910 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/2313534-bigthumbnail-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/2313534-bigthumbnail-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/2313534-bigthumbnail.jpg 450w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 300px) 85vw, 300px\" \/><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;It&#8217;s frog weather.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p>A likely goofy grin broke onto my face as I blurted out that thought, voice unfurling in leafy wonder. It&#8217;s frog weather. Being soaked is exactly what a little frog would love, and my shoes were squelchy like a frog&#8217;s step. Frogs slipping into mud puddles, frogs sitting in loafs on drenched trees, frogs blinking their eyes as droplets plonk onto their faces. Frog weather!\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>The amount of happiness this thought gave me feels almost childish, but I love it. I remember walking to class with a smile, and I impulsively said to a passing woman, &#8220;It&#8217;s frog weather!&#8221; She said &#8220;Yeah!&#8221; in response, likely not realizing the gravity of the phrase. Frog weather!\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>I think I said the words to some of my friends as well, but I know I thought it more often than I said it. Frog weather, frog weather. I loved watching the raindrops hit the classroom window, imagining the earthy, lush scent of a rainstorm outdoors, mossy and muddy and froggy with frogs. Frog weather makes rain feel so much more sparkly. Maybe someone reading this will feel the same way as I do, and they&#8217;ll beam at the pitter-patter of raindrops with thoughts of frogs.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit&#8230; \u00a0 Recently, it was raining buckets at school. It wasn&#8217;t the worst thing I&#8217;ve seen, but having to walk through shoe-soaking paths with a paper-thin backpack full of important items wasn&#8217;t very funky fresh. Climbing onto the bus, my socks were soaked to the bone, and it would take the entire day &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/2024\/01\/26\/frog-weather\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Frog Weather&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":88,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18831"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/88"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18831"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18831\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18923,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18831\/revisions\/18923"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18831"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18831"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18831"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}