Plunk Your Magic Twanger, Froggy!

I'm waiting for the frogs to plunk.
Peepers are a sure sign of spring but they are sharp and shrill -- in a likeable way, but that plunk of the big frogs will soon be coming in my office window and from the beaver pond. When my family discovered the overpopulated frog breeding ground that is the beaver pond down at the corner on our road, they were all in full mating mode. Silas, then 4, asked what they were doing? Were they fighting?
Well...no...
Once a long time ago, in the turbulent seventies when the Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice thing was going on, my library director was conducting an affair with a librarian from somewhere else in the state. He was obviously in turmoil and also thinking with "his other brain." One afternoon, warm and humid and with frogs plunking in Dragon Pond, he just took up and left...off to see his lady love (who later changed her name to a city in Italy, perhaps to avoid confusion between her name and my boss's daughter's.)

Does this matter.
No. Absolutely not.
But there is something about certain days in spring and early summer when you move and respond differently, more elementally. The days when you might just do something dangerous.

I'm a good frog, I am, I am.

That phrase is embedded in my brain as a sound bite. It was a sound bite because it was all on radio, early Saturday morning don't-wake-Mom-and-Dad-up-yet radio. Froggy the Gremlin

As Midnight the Cat would say, Niiiice!