It's a sure sign of Spring when I hear the sound of the peepers in the early evening as darkness falls. Hearing them always reminds me of the time Val pulled our brown Nova 4 door to a halt with me and Jenny in the car one late April night back when I was in high school. Val cranked down her window and commanded us to do the same. We were parked next to a salt marsh somewhere in West Falmouth, I think it was near the post office. She yelled out, "Peepers!" to our horrified teenage ears. We had no idea why my totally "queer" mother was so excited about a bunch of loud noise filling the air. So, it became a joke year after year. You know the kind,when you are a teenager and you mimick your parents out of embarrassment for their lack of coolness?
These past couple of weeks I have found myself putting the windows down and driving slower to hear the song of the peepers. Even my friend Sheila gets excited about the sound that heralds warmer days and longer nights. Last year, at the end of her annual Derby party, she ran out as we were getting into the car. She wanted to know if I had heard them, too. We hugged and enjoyed the springtime moment together. I never thought about how "queer" I must now seem, getting excited about of all things, "Peepers!"