What the heck was I looking at, anyway?  The weirdest creature to cross my kitchen floor in a long while was shuffling clumsily across the tiles – some kind of furry bundle that was half-amphibian and half-laundry lint.  I crouched down and discovered a brown tree frog encased within a shroud of debris.  The poor fellow looked like he had gotten in a fight with a squadron of dust bunnies and lost.  Its sticky toes had acquired enough fuzz and hair to create a woolen vest for itself, along with matching legwarmers.  Even an armored pillbug had gotten trapped in the frog’s fluffy coattails and was being dragged along like a child in a sled.

I apologized for the unswept floors as I carried the frog to the sink and rinsed away the accumulated lint.  I suppose I had allowed conditions to become somewhat dingy during my final week at the cabin, but my mind had been increasingly directed towards the summer and my upcoming travels.  Carefully, I set my amphibious visitor outside the front door, knowing that with a few more hours of packing, I’d be ready to follow.

Greetings and welcome to a fifth season of outdoor adventures, chronicled diligently by yours truly – a native of Norwich, transplanted successfully to the West Coast.  The forthcoming chapters will serve as snapshots of America The Beautiful, focusing on the rougher and more precarious edges of our country’s natural splendor.  Every year, I promise my family to be safer during my hikes and explorations, and every year, something gets in the way of that resolution.  Oh… maybe it’s testosterone.  That, or an unhealthy obsession with cliffs and mountaintops.  At any rate, once I get my house in order and evict any last unwanted tenants, my rendezvous with the natural world can begin in earnest.