I once tried to explain the nightly concert that hearkens spring in the northeast to someone who had never lived in our part of the world.

It didn't quite have the effect I intended.

They deemed the idea of sitting outside on a spring evening doing nothing but listening to frogs call out for their mates, in a word, “weird.”

Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the mating call bit?

And yet stripping away the purpose of the chorus that plays outside an open spring window on a warm night means missing a bit of the magic.

Spring has sprung, and with it comes new life. The flowers are budding. The leaves are returning to the trees.

And yes, little tree frogs are finding the perfect fellow frog to help make more little frogs.

They'll quiet down soon enough as spring turns to summer, their tadpole flock already well on the way to full grown frogdom.

As they do, the world outside will change, temperatures soaring, spring bulbs making way for summertime blooms, and sunlight lasting longer.

These little frogs sing to let us know that all that has been dead and quiet is ready to come back to life.

They sing a song of rebirth and joy.

And yes, they sing a song to mate.

Maybe it's weird, or perhaps it's weirdly beautiful.