The Toad in the Garden: A Story of Cycles, Change, and Acceptance
In a secluded corner of the countryside, there was a garden unlike any other. A lush paradise teeming with life, its flowers bloomed in bursts of color that painted the landscape in every shade imaginable. Butterflies fluttered through the air, bees hummed in a peaceful drone, and small creatures found sanctuary in its abundant greenery. Among these creatures was a toad named Mr. Toad, who had made this beautiful garden his home.
Mr. Toad was no ordinary toad. He had lived in the garden for many years and knew every inch of it—every hiding place beneath the cool kale, every sun-dappled spot in the fertile soil, and every red clover bed where the dragonflies hovered lazily in the afternoon. The garden was his sanctuary, a place of safety where he had thrived for what felt like a lifetime.
It was now autumn, the time of the fall equinox. The days were growing shorter, and the once-vibrant leaves of the trees were beginning to turn shades of amber and gold. There was a subtle chill in the air, a reminder that change was coming. But Mr. Toad didn’t mind. The garden had always provided for him, and he trusted that it would continue to do so, even as the seasons shifted. He also knew it would soon be time for him to dig down into the dirt to hibernate through the winter.
As the sun began to sink earlier in the sky each day, casting long shadows across the garden, Mr.Toad noticed something peculiar. There were fewer insects to catch, fewer sounds of life around him. The garden, usually so full of motion, was quieting down, preparing for the colder months ahead. But Mr. Toad paid little mind. He had always been content here, safe from the dangers of the outside world, where larger creatures roamed.
However, unknown to Mr. Toad, outside the boundaries of the garden lurked a garter snake named Sybil. Unlike Mr. Toad, Sybil did not live in the garden, but she had heard rumors of the paradise it provided. She was sleek, powerful, and cunning—qualities that had kept her alive through many seasons. She had grown into a beautiful, large 2-foot Garter snake. As the leaves began to fall and food grew scarcer, Sybil found herself drawn toward the rich abundance she sensed in the garden.
One cool autumn evening, as the light began to fade and the air grew still, Mr. Toad sat in one of his favorite spots in the wood chip mulch near the edge of the garden, his eyes half-closed as he absorbed the last warmth of the sun. He was oblivious to the danger slithering quietly through the tall grass just beyond the garden's borders. Sybil had arrived.
As she approached, her sharp eyes caught sight of the plump toad resting peacefully in the garden mulch. Her tongue flicked the air, tasting the scent of her prey. She knew what she had to do. In the grand cycle of predator and prey, she was the hunter, and Mr. Toad was to be her meal. There was no malice in her heart, no cruelty in her actions—just the instinctual pull of hunger and survival.
Mr. Toad, unaware of his fate, continued to bask in the fading sunlight, his thoughts drifting lazily. The world seemed perfect to him, as it always had been. But suddenly, the stillness of the garden was broken by the slightest rustle of grass, and Mr. Toad froze. His heart raced as his senses, honed by years of living in the wild, alerted him to the presence of something nearby.
Before he could leap to safety, Sybil struck. Her powerful body coiled around him with terrifying speed, and Mr. Toad found himself ensnared. His limbs flailed, and his breath came in short gasps as he struggled to escape, but it was no use. The cycle had come full circle, and the garden, his beloved home, could not protect him from the inevitable forces of nature.
As Sybil tightened her grip, Mr. Toads' thoughts became strangely calm. He realized something he had never truly understood before—that he was part of a much larger cycle. The garden, for all its beauty and bounty, was not a sanctuary from the natural order. It was a place where life followed the same rhythms as everywhere else.
He thought of the seasons—spring, with its new growth and promise of life; summer, with its abundance and warmth; and autumn, with its cool winds and falling leaves. Each season had its place, just as each creature had its role. Mr. Toad had lived his life as a toad, hopping through the garden, feeding on insects, and enjoying the comfort of his surroundings. But in the end, he could not escape what he was: prey to a predator like Sybil, a snake driven by hunger and survival.
And Sybil, for her part, was simply doing what she had always done—following her nature. She had no malice in her heart, only the instinct to feed, to endure the coming winter, and to live another day. A snake would always be a snake, just as a toad would always be a toad. There was no use in wishing to be something else, no sense in fighting the inevitable cycle of life.
As Sybil devoured Mr. Toad, the garden continued its slow preparation for winter. The last of the leaves drifted from the trees, settling onto the earth below. The air grew colder, and the animals that remained in the garden sought shelter from the changing winds. The equinox had passed, and the balance of light and dark had shifted once again.
Sybil, satisfied after her meal, slithered away from the garden, returning to the wild places beyond. She carried with her the strength she would need to survive the coming months, while the garden, now quiet and still, awaited the deep sleep of winter.
In the grand scheme of things, the lives of both Mr. Toad and Sybil the Snake were small threads in the tapestry of the world. They had played their parts—one as prey, the other as predator—and now the cycle would continue. Just as the leaves fell and returned to the earth to nourish the soil, so too would their lives contribute to Nature's cycle of life and death, growth and decay.
The Moral of the Story:
The toad cannot be anything other than a toad, just as the snake cannot be anything other than a snake. We are each bound to our nature, playing our roles in the grand cycle of life. To wish to be something else is to not accept oneself as one is. The autumn equinox reminds us of this balance—of light and dark, of life and death, of predator and prey. As the leaves fall and the earth prepares for winter, we are reminded to let go of what we cannot change and accept our place in the cycle of life.
Just as Mr. Toad accepted his fate in the end, understanding that he was part of something much larger, we too must learn to embrace who we are. There is no point in trying to be something else, for the cycles of nature will continue, with or without us. All we can do is live fully, playing our part, until the time comes for us to let go.
With Gratitude,
Lauren @ Brahmaloka Healing Arts
XOXO