It’s a week before Christmas and there’s a frog croaking an optimistic serenade from somewhere outside my living room window.
Is he unaware of the coming Winter? Is it really that mild? Mount Washington is still closed for skiing but the mountain biking conditions here in our trails are better than imaginable for this time of year.
Still he’s croaking… is the frog hidden somewhere in my crawlspace? Has he found a sweet spot tucked in beside the wall of the house adjacent to the wood stove?
Is he enjoying his own little Cumberland microclimate like sunbathers on Hornby Island at Big Trib in early June. Too soon for Summer but too hot to keep your clothes on? Too soon for Spring mating calls but too warm not too try? Good luck little buddy. I hope she hears your call.
A funny little frog in my crooked little miner’s cabin. Singing me to sleep.