There are a number of swamps, ponds, and protected wetlands around our house. This time of year those places are full of weirdness: there’s the skunk cabbage (a plant that Freud would love,) and of course, our bug-eyed, raucous neighbors, the frogs.
Fecundity. We’re up to our eyeballs in fecundity. Every bit of plant life outside our door is bursting into bloom, and, from the sounds of it, all the things that go croak in the night are breeding. Though it’s still much too cool at night to sleep with the windows open, last night, even though the windows were closed, the amorous froggy choir outside was deafening. I had spooky dreams that snakes were crawling on me.
Snakes! Tell me what that dream means, Mr. Freud!
