The unbearable lightness of being clueless

A dawdle and a sit-down in the back yard after dark remain some of my favorite things to do. This late at night there aren't any neighbor sounds disturbing the crisp, almost chilly air. I do hear a raccoon in the alley-it's telltale click-chirp and scritchy-scratchy scavenging sounds coming closer. Somewhere in the feather reed grasses there's a tree frog who's calling to a mate with such confidence and wild abandon that I just have to laugh. I think I'll put on a head flashlight and see if I can find him.

A bit later...that didn't work. As soon as I rustled the grass he fell quiet, thinking that I was a large predator out to catch and eat him. All I wanted to do was tell the clueless little peeper that it is 10/10/10 and that it's too late in the season for that kind of amorous behavior. His little green wife would not have time to lay eggs and see them hatched and matured. They would end up with a brood of tadpolesicles for children.

Ah, but to be that clueless must be heavenly on some level, I think. I know of several Republican women running for office that I can ask what it's like. Well, if he isn't going to be my blip, I guess the grass will have to do.