About 1/2 mile from our home was a little marsh. And, along with the flowering dogwood trees, one of the ways we knew that spring was upon us, was that 100s of little frogs down in the marsh would start to sing. 

The backyard was a perfect place to sit in the evening, watching the fireflies dance in our little grove of trees, viewing the brilliant colors in the sky change as the sun set, and listening to the shrill song of the little frogs. 

Frogs are an interesting bunch. They are not necessarily that bright as a general rule, but there are things we can learn from them.

I recall a little story I heard years ago, not sure when. But as I recall it was a mostly true story that may have happened down in that little marsh in the Shenandoah Valley near our home. It was truly a calamity.

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