So it seems that this annual sound event, which occupies only the smalles part of my day when it is occuring, is something like a vague memory that brings hope and excitement to me, and which fills me with expectation when I approach the hidden area where the animal seems to reside.
Although I have been walking around Stow Lake (mostly) daily for more than two years now, it wasn't until one day last year that I saw the maker of this sound, a large black frog, which was ahead of me in the walking path, and which quickly disappeared as I approached. At first, in the foggy, drizzly weather, it looked like a large black, plastic bag, the kind that you rarely see here in San Francisco since these kinds of bags were banned here almost two years ago, but as I got closer it jumped away, and I was joyful.
Experiencing these kinds of things is for me like being told that a wonderful surprise awaits you, and having the trust and patience to know it will come at some point. It is something to look forward to in the future, and allthough I don't necessarliy need to have a possible reward on the horizon to make my life worth living, it does add to its' allure.
The existence of the wonderful sounds, sights and smells that have been available to me in the past in my park spots creates a belief for me that there are more of them available to me in the future, and the expectancy of them suggests that there is more good ahead.

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