Toads in Springtime

Oh, how I love the sound of the toads in springtime! Their high-pitched call which makes their vocal sac blow up like a balloon comes from the male toads as they try to attract a mate. This cacophony goes on for several days and nights and beckons me to stop what I'm doing, put on my flip flops, leash the family pug, drive down to the reserve by the little pond, and follow the sounds which take me along the path, by the water amongst the reeds.

Oh, what a sight to see! Toads, doing what their maker compels them to do; that is reproduce. It is their purpose for the season. Brazen, with no shame. Two, three, four; all fighting for the same mate. Amazing. Unmoved by the dog and her human who are inches away from them. It's as if they are stupefied into a trance with one sole idea on their minds. I'm smitten by their reckless attitudes. 

If only I were so single-focused and unrestrained as to not be bothered by the intruders who can so easily rain down on the joy I have as I begin my day, after having my quiet time and morning jog, leaving me bewildered, with my feathers ruffled, by day's end.

Alas, back to the toads; how they fascinate me. As I begin my much-needed spring break from a very long school year, I plan to look more to nature to ground myself as one who is created, looking to the creator for my peace and my purpose for this season of life.