A couple of nights ago Leah and I stood out on our front porch in the dark, listening to a pond-full of frogs croaking off in the distance. We hear this serenade every year at this time, part of a ritual froggy mating dance that eventually leads to frog mamas filling our pond with a b’zillion spring peepers.
We humans are ready for spring. Our frog neighbors are ready for spring. Mother Nature, however, had other plans for our spot on the planet.
Yesterday morning we woke up to find that snow had fallen during the night. I pulled on insulated work boots -- in my eagerness to welcome spring, I had already packed them away -- and walked around outside, looking for snow pictures and sending silent but sympathetic condolences to my male frog friends out there whose amorous intentions have probably been put on hold.
Brother Frog Dudes, I feel your pain. Dig into the mud and wait a few days. The forecast for the weekend is for warmer weather. Perfect for courtship.
