Spring Peepers

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This week, I decided to help the arrival of Spring by driving to my favorite flower section at Albertsons. Since buying the entire department might leave a lot of explaining with the husband, I settled on several market bunches. It was so tempting to go down to Aisle 10, buy a lawn chair and offer to just sit in Floral armed with a hose to help them water and sample chocolates for the customers. Because I am over Winter. And I mean that in the biggest way. Beyond the bunches and bon bons....I miss my frogs.
Mud_opt.jpg Spring at the ranch meant your ears were greeted by a wall of frog sounds when leaving the house. And it also meant a multitude of amphibian adventures for my brothers and I. Lucky for us, Mom was very supportive of long visits to the very shallow pond on our place. I suspect she was also very supportive of washing her floors without interference (including extra frog residents) and maybe, possibly, the act of drinking a cup of coffee quietly from start to finish. Occasionally, she was SO motivated to help us with adventuring that our bikes were given a lift to the top of the hill by tadpole central.
While we were as careful as possible with our water boots, the concentration required in catching new family pets usually trumped any efforts to keep our footwear from turning into its own little habitats. Imagine the surprise of genteel visitors to the ranch when our crew rolled back down the hill. Socks placed on the handlebars dried well at high speeds. Boots tipped up in a front basket were water free by the house. And somewhere on our persons were several frogs, fearing for the life they'd lead with their frantically pedaling, barefoot owners.
For now, my flowers are in the window watching the snow fall outside. The pond below our house is prepped and ready for residents. And I'm ready to hear the evening music of a hundred spring peepers. Even if several of them make their way inside our house.....


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About the Author
Anne has worked in agriculture since she was old enough to sweep the floor of the family machine shed. She writes about rural & outdoor life from the most remote county seat in the Lower 48, where she and her husband chase two children. Her experience ranges from picking apricots in 100 degree weather and working with Hutterite colonies, to discussing ag trade with the Ambassador of New Zealand and judging cured meats.