"In many parts of North America, the call of the peepers is one of the first signs of spring. Because their voices sound similar to sleigh bells, the frogs have earned a nickname—the bells of springtime." (http://tinyurl.com/cycxwu)
Peeper. Do you know what a peeper is? It's a teeny, tiny frog. No bigger than the length from the top of your fingernail to the knuckle. You won't see them, but oh boy, can you hear them when a young peeper's fancy turns to thoughts of love. That haven't-heard-it-in-nearly-a-year, jaunty, breezy chorus of happy bleats which signals the arrival ... at last! ... of Spring.
Ohhhh, life is sweet in the first early days of Spring isn't it? I went for an ice cream cone with my best friend last night, mostly to get out of the house and into the open air after months of stifling in the stale atmosphere of cooped up rooms. It is an unofficial tradition here in New England to eat ice cream at any time of the year, often in generous portions, so although we didn't need an occasion to get in line with every other person, it sweetened the pot. Took us away from the TV, the phone, the "shoulda, oughtta, gotta" list of obligations.
Sailing down open roads, seeing everywhere the newly alive trees filter the light, rippling in bands across hopeful new lawns. Green enchants, punctuated by splashes of new pink, fuschia, yellow. The world exhaling the cares of the day, caressing all of us lucky enough to be alive today. Light enough for the day and part of the night. The cruel days of darkness by 5:00 are by this time just a memory.
Life. Is. Good.