I felt a little foggy this morning, so I did the best thing I know, strapped on the sneakers and headed out the door. The wind was biting for the first mile and all I could think about was turning the corner and going in a different direction. Eventually I veered left and began the ascent up what we locals call “Lovers Lane”.
On top of the hill the wind died down and the sun came out. I passed a small creek (read “crick”…this is the country) and a large pond. The singing of the frogs was so loud that it literally forced me to focus on the surroundings. I smiled as I thought about my mom sharing a memory from her childhood. My grandma told her she couldn’t take off her long-johns until the frogs croaked three nights in a row.
Oh grandma. I smiled broader.
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