Arrival

Just now, walking up past the pond at dusk, we heard the wood frogs calling. We followed the chorus in. Silence. Then, here and there, the song began again. Overnight, the last of the ice melted, and the frogs are mating. Tomorrow: spring.

The photograph of fungi was taken up at the pond. Click on image to enlarge.

Cloud Between Two Worlds

Yesterday there was still ice on the pond up the hill, floating like a cloud between two worlds, like a veil between the shifting seasons. Not a wood frog to be found. Only the silent guardian rock, beached like a sailboat at the edge.

Click on image to enlarge.