We have a "water feature" in our back yard. Some say it's just a spring fed gully. Some say it's a creek. Some call it an eye sore. I call it a pond. There's not much to it, really. There is more water standing now than I have ever seen it, over the past six years. It really was a very wet winter. But it is about a foot deep and covers an area of approximately 20 feet in diameter, with water running in from another pond and out through creek/ditch.
Every Spring the frogs come back to make their mating call. I guess I was especially surprised this year, because of how cold our Winter was. I heard that it was the coldest winter on record. We certainly had more snow than I have seen in this part of the country. Until a couple of weeks ago, our temperatures were still dipping down into the low 30's.
Mother nature just couldn't wait. Or could she? Although the frogs are out and the crocus' are blooming, we keep going back and forth, cold then hot. Sun and rain at the same time. And the wind is gusting every day. This bothers me on several different levels, but the most important is what it is doing to my head. I've had a migraine every day for the last six days. Not an atomic bomb migraine, only a 5/6, but enough to make my days miserable and make it hard to do many tasks.
I look forward to a positive change in the weather. Migraine or not, the frogs can keep on peeping.
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I sympathize!
ReplyDeleteFrom Red Skelton:
Frogs, a poem
Frogs. Frogs. Frogs, they are everywhere.
Frogs. Frogs. Frogs croaking fill the air.
Louder. Louder. Louder is their blasting blare
and there’s no silence in the night.
Frogs. Frogs, croaks heard three miles away.
Five. six. seven beyond that they say.
Frogs. Frogs multiplying more each day
and there’s no silence in the night.
Frogs. Frogs don’t try to seek them out.
Frogs. Frogs. Frogs hiding all about.
Grab. Grab. Grab their throats and wring them out.
‘cause there’s no silence in the night.
Frogs. Frogs their good is only bad.
Flirting. Flirting. Flirting on their lily pad.
Mom. Mom. Mom says no, but you know dad.
and there’s no silence in the night.
Frogs. Frogs don’t you know the strain?
Frogs. Frogs. Please, please, please refrain
and listen [croak, croak] there they go again. Frogs. Frogs
and there’s no silence in the night.
[Gun shots]
http://www.clown-ministry.com/index_1.php/articles/red_skelton_frogs_poem/#ixzz0jLocWmDq