The frogs are quieter now. The chorus is calmer, the singing softer. The frantic energy of the first of spring has tempered and becomes easier with the warmer days and nights. We sit and listen and have to wait. Their song no longer calls us from a hillside away. Now we hear their melody more in anticipation than in the air. I wonder how many more days it will last, and wonder why I will miss this.
After the silence of winter, the hum of their song broke through the frozen air, carried along in the bare woods like a distant war cry. Curiosity attracted us after observing so little life on the mountain throughout the winter. A tender reward.
How quickly the seasons change. How much we would miss if we did not learn to look. How simple this mountain and our lives would remain. How many of these mysteries would remain unknown to us if we never ventured from the beaten trail of the mountain and of life?
And yet, we all know, once we begin to open our eyes, our minds, our hearts… suddenly we begin to see how little we really know. Or perhaps it is just me, feeling very small at times on this big mountain.
The mountain has infinite mysteries. Not secrets, for there is no intent to hide. Everything is there, open, ready to be shared if we only take the time to look. Around us and inside us.