Wednesday, December 9, 2020 Fig Newton Part 1

A frog with wanderlust, that was Mr. Fig Newton. All the other frogs were content to stay in the same little pond, year in and year out. But Fig, with his goofy little grin, thought there must be places to go and things to see and by golly, he was going to go there and see them!

Most frogs have no need of a boat – they swim perfectly well and don’t travel far. Fig was in no way daunted by his boatlessness. He was a plucky fellow and not easily dissuaded once he made up his mind. Why can’t more frogs have the courage and vision that Fig has? He had often thought this about himself, but it seemed to be sort of “tooting-my-own-horn” to make such a statement out loud. So he waited for me to say it. And now I have.

He began his wanderings the way frogs usually do – smoothly slipping through the pond waters, and jumping in great bounds on land until he found a river which would take him everywhere in the world (as far as he was concerned). Fig didn’t even have a name yet, if the truth be told. He was indistinguishable from any other frog at this point. But Providence favored his journey and he came immediately into the realm of the right sort of girl, one who wasn’t the least bit squeamish about frogs.

She picked him up and told him solemnly that he was to call her “Miss Lucy.” And after some reflection, she further decreed that he would be known as “Fig Newton.” It’s just as well that he didn’t know he was named after a pastry filled with fig paste – it might have dampened his spirits a bit.

Little Miss Lucy was the perfect patroness. She knit a tiny scarf for him so he wouldn’t get cold, and she fashioned a wee sailor’s hat for him to wear for the journey ahead. Of course she knew his heart’s desire was to sail down the river – she was a daughter of the river and knew how irresistible its songs were.

When the time came to part, Miss Lucy put out the boat she’d made for Fig with its cheery flag and sturdy oars. She even gave Fig a toy boat to play with when the open river wasn’t too demanding on his time. “Oh, Fig,” she said, “I will miss you. Please come back to me when you have seen all that you need to see. And be careful. Not everyone loves a frog with wanderlust.”

He tipped his hat to her and rowed away with the current, smiling his goofy smile. Places to go, things to see! But the daughter of the river, Miss Lucy, had tied an invisible string of affection around him that would someday bring him back.

* * * * * * * * *

This fanciful story is dedicated to my granddaughter, Miss Lucy. If she becomes the kind of girl who isn’t squeamish about frogs, she will not have taken after her grandmother. 🙂

Fig Newton Part 2
Fig Newton Part 3

I’ll probably delete this when Fig Newton finishes his travels.