I made the frog at the kitchen table. One eye was larger than the other, its legs were tied from green string, and it looked less like a frog than a potato with responsibilities. I took it to Lily Corner before anybody could offer an opinion.
The cork body sat beautifully between the leaves. I gave it a small twitch and watched a bass glide beneath the nearest lily pad. I gave it another twitch. The fish kept watching. Apparently we were both trying to decide what I had made.
THE FISH TAKES CHARGE
Then the water exploded. The frog disappeared, the lily leaves jumped and my elbow hit the tackle box. For a few wonderful seconds, everything on the boat moved except the thing I wanted to reach: the net.
The bass shook free with one final splash. The frog returned with only its smaller eye. I put it carefully in the box and wrote a new label on the lid: successful enough to require repairs. At home, nobody was allowed to call it a potato.
Looking ridiculous is not the same as being useless.
