I am lying on the picnic table with my knees up. I kick off my shoes and the reflection off my bare, pasty-white toes is blinding. They are still sleepy from a long hibernation, but they are happy.
The sky above me is deep blue and there is not a single cloud I can see. The contrast is so great that I can pick out each single pinecone all the way in the tops of those scraggly trees that tower above me.
I close my eyes. The sun is pouring down hard for mid-March and I am drinking in every delicious bit of this beautiful day.
There’s a high wind roaring somewhere to my left, and a light rustling of the few brown leaves that were spared in the fall. That sound is lower and nearer.
The trampoline is squeak, squeak, squeaking and the kids are laughing and playing a game with rules they are making up as they go along.
Each of the sounds is distinct and striking.
But for me, what is louder than the roar of the wind and the rhythmic squeak of the trampoline and all the laughing is the frogsong.
I heard the frogsong the first time more than a week ago, on a warm day that gave way to a four-inch snow. It was tentative then, low but steady. Today, it is louder and more confident. That optimistic rolling chirp is convincing: I imagine it says, we have made it! We have made it through the winter!
Today, I focused in on those sounds and especially the frogsong. I know eventually these notes of spring will fade into the background music of summer and I won’t notice them so much anymore.
Today, though, today they have taken center stage, and they are belting out spring. And I am thoroughly enjoying it!
Want to hear the frogsong in my yard?