For several years I have been moaning about the lack of frogs and toads. Granted, we have been in a statewide drought. This year we had a rainy May and have had random thunderstorms every two weeks or so, AND we had the hugely successful tadpole relocation during Farm Camp. This morning I decided to see if I could drive the lawn mower. I could without any problem. Hooray! The shoulder is healed and, in therapy I am working on strength training now.
While I was mowing I saw many, many frogs and toads, small to medium size, hopping out of the way of the mower. I slowed down every time and swerved away from them. Oh yes, I am a friend of the frogs. I was delighted to see so many alive and well and to notice the differences in types. Could these, or some of these, be our baby tadpoles grown up and thriving? Happiness all over the place!
I also scared up some mice and rats and a baby rabbit or two. I am worried about Little Timmy.
Sadly, the Johnson Grass is winning in Maggie's Wood this year. Since my surgery I haven't been able to keep up with it. I am trying to keep the front two thirds beaten back but have let the south acre go completely…well, I am keeping the running path mowed, just in case. What is there about a secret path disappearing round a curve that so entices? The unknown that awaits discovery is a Siren. There is also a path leading to the hay bales, even if it is much too hot these days to do any bale running. One of these days the heat will break away and let the cool flow back into our days. I am thinking like a Boy Scout.
I read Harper Lee's new book, Go Set A Watchman. I admit to being concerned about what the author might have done to the character of Atticus, since all the prerelease press was vicious towards her take on him as an older man, casting him as a racist. Was that marketing? If so, it could easily have gone both directions, and probably did. It was so good to hear Lee's voice again and to laugh out loud at the audacious language and spunk of our beloved Scout. Atticus was fine, as it turned out and I was delighted to read much more about his brother, Jack, in this book. The 'meandering' in the book (much maligned by some reviewers) served to support the central tenant of the work, in my opinion, and was not wasted ramblings. In my mind I said to the reviewers, "Me thinks thou doest protest too much", as the Bard himself would say.
I highly recommend reading the book, keeping in mind that it was written in the fifties, not today. Fifty years is not a long time, in the grand scheme of things, but it is a goodly amount of time. We are still grappling with many of the same issues today as we were in the sixties, but I believe we are making progress. Yes, we have far to go in the area of race relations. I believe we will get to a good end, over time. What can you do to help? Do what you can, where you are, with what you have. Make changes in the your own attitudes and actions, affect the space in which you live and move. That is a good place to begin. A people does not change; people change, one by one. I agree, it has taken longer than it should have taken and we are not yet finished. The fires of injustice and hatred sear hearts and minds and the scars never fade. We need to keep working.