I live in Frog-i-stan. Okay, there isn’t actually country called Frog-i-stan, but with all the other “-stans” out there (Afghanistan, Kurdistan, Uzbekistan, Stanistan – oh, wait, that one’s made up, too), I figured I could name our little enclave of froggy terror after the “-stan” group. Here’s what I mean.

We moved here almost 8 years ago (in November). For eight years, we have paid rent (over $100,000 toward our landlord building equity in this house, by my calculations). We did so because for seven years this had been the house my wife had dreamed about, every time we drove by on our three times or more per week jaunts to church.

We would take the scenic, tree-lined route through a neighborhood way out of our reach, and she would secretly lay claim to this house. Then, one day, when we were in the market to move, the house was vacant and for rent. We negotiated with the landlord, and moved in within the week.

Old (1954 vintage), drafty, with its own set of problems, the house has nonetheless been a wonderful place to live while our five kids went through high school. We live across the street from a creek, in an inner-city suburban area. With about ten mature trees on the lot (including a huge, pink crepe myrtle you can see over the house from the front when it blooms), the yard has long been a playground for squirrels and the like. We even saw a coyote crossing the street from one creek bed to the other recently.

But beginning about two years ago, our little section of the neighborhood became ground zero for the invasion. I mentioned the creek across the street. We’ve always had our share of frogs and critters as a result of that. But two years ago our neighbors decided they had enough of trying to keep up their in-ground pool, and they converted it to a real, live cement pond.

This is nothing like the cement pond of Elle Mae and Jethro on the Beverly Hillbillies. No, this pool has been converted to a living, breathing, science fair project. They rigged the re-circulating pump to expose the water to air, so it would re-oxygenate the water. They stocked it with fish. And they let nature take over.

It’s a little scary. I worry about what would happen if a neighborhood kid (like my 2 year old grandson) wandered over and fell in. No one would be able to see them at the bottom of the pool, because the water is murky, not clear like a swimming pool is. I asked them about it and they claimed the city health department had given them the okay. Wow. Back-to-earth, and all that, I guess, huh?

That takes us full-circle to tonight. Why am I up at 5:10 (I tried to go back to sleep for 30 minutes, and have been typing another half-hour) typing instead of sleeping. Because the frogs are so loud!

As we got our grandson to sleep last night (we have him over as often as possible), one of the things we did to try and quiet him down was to say, “Listen to the frogs.” From sunset (around 8:30 to 9:00 CDT this time of year) to I guess 4:30, there is a contest that goes on in ours and the neighbor’s yard. The frogs and the crickets are each competing to see who can scream the loudest. I mean, I guess it’s mating season for both, because they are seriously loud. And there must be a lot of them because as a chorus they are really loud.

Why do I call it Frog-i-stan? Why isn’t that a soothing sound? Well it could be, but my wife is deathly afraid of frogs. When she gets out of the car at night, she has to take the paved way into the house to minimize her chance of encountering a “demon frog.” She has even sat in the car waiting for me to accompany her in on nights when the amphibians’ activity has been particularly visible.

So, it’s Frog-i-stan for us. Why do we stay? Did I mention the trees? And the huge back-yard? And the four-plus bedrooms the living room and den? And the almost eight years of history here?

We’ll leave eventually. The utility bills eat us up here and we really need to start building up some equity. Our youngest graduates next year, so we’re starting to think relocation. But meanwhile, I’ve got to go back to bed. I think the frogs and crickets have all given up for the night in this great land of Frog-i-stan.