The Banjo Frogs

The Banjo Frogs

The banjo frogs of the Great Lakes captivate. They soothe.

Hauntingly beautiful like the Loons on still waters at sunset, these frogs strum their banjos from deep inside the long lake weeds that line the shore and softly sway with the lazy breeze.

Lake life is slow life where stillness can be found any time of day because a day at the lake feels like weeks. Where time stops as you disconnect from the world as it disconnects from you. Where you reconnect with life and with living. Where the fresh air replaces the swipe up from a phone and text messages slow as they’re replaced with actual conversation.

The days are lazy. Your hand replaces your phone with an ice cold glass of whatever you’re drinking as you settle into a low beach chair and bury your feet in the hot sand until you feel the coolness of the lake beneath it, soaking water up like a sponge. The further you plunge your toes, the deeper you bury the world.

It can wait.

Whatever it is will still be there on the other side of this week.

But, the banjo frogs won’t be.

As you pass the day away, indifferent to anything, you wait for the official marker of the day’s end. On the dock you hear the start of the performance anticipating a front row seat to the finest percussion this part of nature provides. When the daylight can longer hang on, and it slowly replaces itself with the soft colors of dusk, the banjo frogs appear to play in a round robin fashion.

Marking the end of the day and the beginning of the next.

They become an auditory beacon marking the end of the shore and the start of the water.

Every night they play.

Same time.

Same venue.

And when it’s finally time to go back home to life, to the world, to the routines and the schedules, the lake stays the same. Never changing in its timelessness. Day continues to linger with no one there to notice and dusk appears right on schedule each day while the banjo frogs continue to strum on as if promising you, “until next year.”

The world can wait while you’re at the lake.

Whatever it is will still be there on the other side of the week.

But, the banjo frogs won’t be.

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