|These are the enchanted woods, and this is the trail that leads to the bog.|
There is a bog of singing frogs down the trail a five minute walk away from my yard. In the evening, in the dark, they start to sing. It's magic. It's soothing. The world slows down, and I sigh.
Even better is to be on the trail surrounded by them. The bog singing on the right, a chorus to the left by the creek, the sound surrounding me and massaging away any stress or tension. There is only breathing now, only nature, only dark shadows and humid spring air. Only the smell of the trees and damp warm earth, only the crunch of gravel underneath.
Breath. It's so easy now. What is it about the texture of this surround sound, this soothing group of throaty singers. It's like the barrage of thousands of tiny droplets of water from the shower head massaging my skin, each little peeper singing, hundreds of them, all around me.
Right down the road. When I take the pup out at night in my yard one last time before he goes to sleep, I hear them. They don't sing during the day, just when it's dark. I didn't hear them last summer, though. But then again, I didn't go out at night then since I didn't have a dog then who needed to go out that late. This is yet another reason I'm glad to have Sparky! He gets me outside a lot more, and we walk on this trail often.