The frogs are croaking along Onion Creek. I know this, because we were there yesterday.
We walked through the woods in the shade with the dogs sniffing at the trees and bushes and pokey things along the path. And we came to a trail that we hadn’t taken before that went back and forth and down across a bridge and though a poison ivy infested woods down to the creek.
We stood there and looked out on the water, amazed that in this heat in this place in summer so much water would be there, amazed that there would be frogs croaking.
But they were. And they are. And they do.