Often observed twisting its succulent tendrils around the trunks of abandoned trees, the amphibious Frog Vine grows rampant along the water's edge. In the early spring, Tadpole Berries sprout from the vine and when ripened, fall to the ground and roll toward nearby ponds and streams. No one's really sure if the frog springs from the vine or if the vine springs from the frog - it's one of those endless chicken and egg causality dilemmas. Medium: Graphite and watercolor on paper, digital color.
This is magical!
Posted by: Shannon | May 24, 2010 at 01:56 PM
I love you warts and all.
Posted by: Vern | May 24, 2010 at 08:46 PM
Tondi wiped her tear-soaked eyes, wringing diamonds of moisture from the silk kerchief she'd kept tucked 'neath her flowing gown. The drops cascaded down the trunk of the tallest tree in the swamp, until they spattered against the pliant skin of the vine.
The tentacles of plant matter expanded from the precipitation; nodules appeared against the threads of material, and small forms--green, wide-eyed, and ambiguous--wriggled in the middle of the opaque cysts blemishing the tendrils.
Some of the vine tips blushed, 'til their clear nubs turned orange and stretched into something resembling digits. Then one nodule swelled fuller and wetter than the others. Eyes formed; green, mottled speckling peppered the fluid-filled globe, and four distinct legs emerged from the sides. The Frog Vine opened its newly-formed mouth, licking its amphibious lips with a long, pink, viscous tongue.
"Frog springs from vine," Tondi said as her amber-shaded hand squeezed the kerchief and more rain fell to the carpet of moss surrounding the tree. "I know now."
Posted by: BlueOrbExpatriate | May 24, 2010 at 10:02 PM
One Froggy Evening...
Wonderful!
Posted by: Mark | May 25, 2010 at 04:20 PM
coooool like the frog reminds me of my backyard.
Posted by: Michael Dvornik | November 29, 2010 at 05:40 AM