Frogs hold a special place in my heart, I must admit. When we were kids, we spent hours and hours and hours catching the little buggers from the pond at my grandparents’ cabin. They’re slippery and small, breathe hard and fast, they’re quick, delicate, foreign but patient in human hands.

Frogs have the ability to live on both land and water. They have extremely sensitive skin, are considered a companion of the rain spirits, and their medicine teaches sensitivity to others.

When frog comes into your life, look beneath the surface. There is a beauty and magic behind the appearance, a sense of bringing yourself closer to the Goddess. The skin of a frog feels translucent, like you can poke your finger right through into the heartbeat. We held frogs gently, cupped in two hands, listening to their tiny creaks and croaks with eager curiosity.

The voice of the frog is said to call forth the rains.

A sign of fertility and growth, abundance.

Frogs–not to be confused with toads, who are earth dwellers–symbolize metamorphosis, or coming into one’s own creative power. Their ability to move between earth and water is one of their more powerful aspects. Solid ground and foundation paired with intuitive emotional understanding and depth.

When we were kids, we stocked the pond from our great aunt Emily’s stream. We came across a hatch of teeny baby frogs during a family reunion and must have put at least a hundred of them in a bucket to take here, to this place. Reunions at Emily’s were Uncle Dewey and Josephine, talking about horses and drinking beer. Pig roast on an open pit. Dozens of people we didn’t know but were related to still. Sliding down the hill, a blanket of pine needles, on well worn curved planks, a quirky race passed down by the old timers. The oil on the bottom of the wood made them fly! Pregnant aunt Alice, polka music, feeding squirrels so tame they would stand on your lap, wildflowers, the long ride home, dancing, family, music, late sunsets, buckets full of frogs.

Frogs to me are nature. The connection to life, the sacred, invincible youth. Dexterity, being quick on your feet. Living and breathing outside all day long, chasing butterflies, stopping to rest. Lilacs. Smoky sunsets. Sitting alongside my grandpa, Coors and Camels in hand. The music of aspens. The smell of the rain.

Cold, wet fingers, slick from their skin. The feeling of freedom, long hair, of being at home in a place that is safe.