Our adopted town of Congress is a small retirement community, although it wasn’t always that way. Like most of the old mine towns around here, plenty of people lived here as long as they could yank gold out of the dirt; at times, there were even more people here than living in the little farming village called Phoenix. After all the money was gone, there wasn’t any reason to hang around here. The soil’s too rocky to farm, and there’s little to see here.
However, We have one attraction that puts us on the map, and I like to think it came from boredom. I imagined one summer’s day in 1928, and young Sarah Perkins–a homesteader’s wife—was in the shade of their front porch seeking relief from the oppressive heat. As she rocked in her chair, sweat soaked her gingham dress. The glass of refreshing lemonade that she held to her brow felt good as she stared at the pile of rocks across the highway near the railroad tracks. She turned to her husband sitting in the chair beside her and said, “Lester,” (I couldn’t find his name, so I picked one from my head) “The next time you’re in town, I want you to pick me up some green paint.”
Lester was a wise man who knew better than to ask, “What for?” A couple of weeks later, when he returned from town in the Model A pickup, two cans of Sarah’s paint and three large brushes were buried within the other provisions. The very next day, in the cool of the morning, she led her sons across the road to the pile of rocks, and they began to paint.
If that’s not how it happened, it’s how it should have been when Sarah created our green rock frog. I agree, it’s tacky kitsch, but it’s our giant ball of twine, our world’s largest ketchup bottle, or our Lucy the Elephant. It’s a point of pride in our town, and when the paint fades, a self-appointed committee repaints it. I think that the Highway Department has given up on removing it, because, like the elephant on Yarnell Hill, it always returns. This last time, they added spots to the frog’s back.
I wanted to show more than just a frog when I shot the frog. I wanted to show how the 50-ton boulder looked unpainted, so I included some granite boulders in the foreground in a supporting role. I call this week’s image Rock Frog partly because I had a B-52 song stuck in my ear.
You can see a larger version of Rock Frog on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy viewing this week’s post and come back next week when we’ll show another featured image from Congress.
Until next time — jw
It’s your story which makes it true. Great photo.