Although we don’t have any rain, the wind is restless… hot, damp and uneven, a feverish breath, hallucinogenic.
Last night when I went out to lock up there was a gaggle of bats weaving through the branches of the tree over our deck. I don’t remember seeing so many there before – it was also noticeably less buggy. I had hoped to see them again tonight, but they must’ve found a buggier place to go. I promised them I would get started on their bat house, and so I will.
Maybe you can help me. I’m trying to find a story I heard on the radio many years ago. I don’t remember the title or the author, but I remember the story. It was about a young researcher, a specialist in frogs, whose wife had recently passed away. In reaction to his loss, he had shut out everything else in his life, and dedicated himself to his work. He worked at an isolated lab near the river, alone. In the evenings he would walk to clear his head. One warm spring evening on his walk the frogs called loudly to each other. They jumped along the dirt road, headed down to the river. He walked along with them. Their energy was infectious. He began to skip along with them. There were hundreds, thousands of frogs by now. He felt almost giddy to be with them. But he thought he heard something much larger and heavier behind him in the dark. He dared not look back. The river came closer…
Every time I hear lots of frogs I think of this story. I’ll tell you how it ends if you can find the original for me
32°C (89.6°F) Hot and dry… and an air pollution warning due to fine smoke particles from the fires in Colorado and Arizona. We got a little work done in the yard before it got too hot – no heavy exertion, just watering, mostly, and a little tree trimming to make sure the raspberries get the sun they need.