She said: "I grew up in suburban Virginia, in a plain brick house, on a dirt road in a neighborhood of about maybe a dozen houses that were pretty much just like ours. I rode my bike up and down the hill there in the Summer, and in the Winter sledded down that hill with my baby brother. In the Summer there was a creek (we pronounced it as "Crick") and in that creek there was mud and muscles that we'd bring home by the bucket full to watch them open up so we could see the slimey white thing that lived inside of that black shell. And there was also tadpoles in that creek and we brought them home in a big jar and took them down to the basement wash room and then forgot about them. But we soon remembered when we heard Momma screaming about "Sweet Jesus Almighty". Those tadpoles had changed into little tiny frogs and they were just everywhere down there in the cool cellar, hoping around the wash basin and up on the concrete walls and over the floor and Momma wasn't any too pleased about it all. So my brother and I had to go down there and scoop up all of those baby frogs and take them right back to the creek where they came from. Momma got over it, but not too quickly, but I never forgot those tiny frog babys. They sure were cute in their way. If they could change from something that was kind of fishy into something that had legs that would let you walk up on a wall and stuff, well, then anything was possible, wasn't it?"

Stumble It!