Faith, Folklore, and Friends

google image We have abundant frogs in Alabama. On summer evenings, I love sitting on the deck, listening to them sing.  The tree frogs have a constant chorus, with other frogs and toads calling out occasionally, probably seeking a sweetheart.   Ribbit, ribbit….or maybe they are saying “Wade in deep, Wade in deep.”  Above is an image of one of the gigs my brother used in search of delectable frog legs. It has survived more than half a century; the long pole attached to it did not. My brother and his friends were champion frog giggers. They would go every night if the weather allowed, and usually came home somewhere between nine and midnight with a sack full. They would butcher the frogs, taking only the legs.  Mama would fry the legs up for them, although it was past her bedtime and she had served a normal supper and cleaned up after it hours ago.  My brother and his friends would devour the frog legs as quickly as she could get them from the frying pan to the table.  There were never