It began with only one. It always begins with one. I sat beside a tranquil pond the other day. Planning. Plotting. Dreaming. An occasional fish flipped to the surface splashing after a buzzing bug. The usual summer stuff. And then it began. Somewhere around the edge of that still and stagnant pond, one frog croaked. Just one. It sounded awkward, uncertain. And lonely. But not for long. Over the next few minutes a few more more croaks joined in. Then more. Again.... Read more