• By Janine Pineo •
I managed to walk the dog on our two-mile woods loop Sunday. There were still pockets of snow where there are always pockets of snow.
I think the last time I managed to do this walk was back in January.
Then last night, I headed out with my dog Kai at about quarter to seven. The sun was low near the edge of the overcast skies and I knew sunset was minutes away.
We made it to the mill and I realized the pockets of snow that had been there the first of the week were gone. It was now a straight shot through the mud.
Yes, that was perfect in my mind.
Instead of the loop, we headed the short distance to the pond, which also had ice in it the first of the week. Lo and behold, the glassy surface was unmarred by ice floes for the first time since, well, I cannot even recall. Probably December.
I snapped the above photographic evidence and listened to a very vocal frog exclaiming its existence.
And then two things happened. Extraordinary and mundane at the same time, but something that struck me in wonder.
The sun was within moments of setting. And, in that last bit of light, the peepers began to sing.
I am not talking a bit of chirping. No, not in the least.
I am talking top-of-their-little-lungs singing.
It filled the air and drifted on the breeze, carrying me a long way back to the car.
The ice is out. Hello, spring.