Spring Peepers.......

Have you heard them? I was driving over to my friend Laura's house on Thursday night and had the windows rolled down. I stopped at a stop sign on a back country road and heard the spring peepers singing with all their might. It was the first time I've heard them this year. They sounded ecstatic! They sounded like they were drunk with love and springtime. They sounded like they were overwhelmed with gratitude. They sounded free. They sounded happy.

The joyous singing of the spring peepers and the haunting, ethereal song of the whippoorwill are two parts of nature's symphony I look forward to every year. They are the precursor to spring. They sing her welcome back. I have listened for them now for many years. When I lived in the mountains and the foothills of North Carolina, the singing of the peepers could be almost deafening while the whippoorwill's cry could almost be missed in the spring if one's ear wasn't listening carefully or if one wasn't up late into the night when she was most likely to sing her lonesome song.

Poor little peepers - they came out last Thursday - on a gloriously warm day. The sun had been shining all day, warming the fields and the trees. I walked three and a half miles on Thursday, around the entire perimeter of the fields at the Homeplace farm where I live. (I know how far it is because I subsequently drove my car around the entire perimeter of the fields to measure the distance. No, it's not a SUV - it's a Mazda. My car did not appreciate this much, but my dog Baby thought it was the grandest car ride she'd ever had. She got to stand between the two front seats the entire way round, tongue hanging out, grinning and panting with sheer joy, tail beating the back seat furiously!). Thursday was such a beautiful day. I felt renewed, revived, like I was coming out of a long, heavy sleep or recovering from a long, drawn-out illness. Friday, the cold returned with a roaring wind and sheets of rain. Poor little peepers! I wonder if THEY wonder why they must go through this every year. It's amazing. The peepers and the daffodils - they come out and wave and dance about, praising the coming of Spring. But then Old Man Winter always has to have the last word, and he generally gives everybody a little smack with his chilly fingers, just to remind us all (peepers, daffodils, and me, too) that he is in charge until he decides otherwise.

Just between you and me, though, Spring kissed me awake on Thursday morning. I felt the wisp of her breath across my brow and her sweet kiss on my cheeks, each side, as if in greeting. She is coming soon to stay.

I am grateful for the song of the little spring peepers. It means Spring is coming soon.

Peace.