This morning, I headed down to the pond and caught a frog. I'd never have seen her if she hadn't leaped from the wooden bridge. But when she landed amongst the rocks and ferns, I trapped her with the girls' butterfly net. She was big and made no sound, so I assumed her female, an orangey-brown wood frog with a
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Mick Silva Editing
Professional Book Editor
Archive for the summer Tag
My only book on how to write inspirational memoir:
