spring peepers

The thermometer hit 70 degrees yesterday; a gentle wind from somewhere far away carried aloft the first hints of a fragrant spring. In the early evening hours, just after sunset, with a soft rain falling and the air filled with the promise of renewal, the northeast’s guardians of early spring began their serenade: the peepers were back. Tiny tree frogs (about 1 inch long) which seem to cluster near my neighbor’s generous pond, they come out at night and sing their lusty mating songs for hours. Neither desperate nor timid, they sing - just a clear statement of presence: here I am, waiting for you. These nightly serenades continue through early summer, meet up with the season of the lightning bugs (if we are lucky - we had almost none last year), and give way to the late summer cricket crescendo. I am not sure I have ever seen a spring peeper. But I hear them, every year, through the open windows of my home. They soothe and comfort, and seem to remind us that if we don’t muck things up, the world will continue on with its seasonal miracles. It is cold tonight, compared to last night. Appropriate weather for March. Forty degrees. I didn’t hear them tonight. Did the odd warm spell confuse them? I hope they are okay.