I still am not used to hearing frog songs in winter. The last one I remember hearing this year was down at the corner on Christmas day. Erin and I were digging out little dams in the road side ditch to give the surface water somewhere to go so that our septic system's drain field would drain and stop backing up into the ground floor showers. (I guess I'd filled the tank up washing linens and dishes in preparation for his return.) At the other end we were amazed to see the water coming UP out of the end of the French drain in to the ditch whose bottom now has eight inches or more of good Georgia silt above the opening; there was that much pressure from the saturated soil uphill from the house.
The frog was at the low end hoping his croaking would attract a lady frog to the temporary pond where their eggs would be safe from water born predators. Our efforts supplied more water but I do not know if he was successful.
I do know it got so cold this week I need a nose warmer.
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