It wasn't until I looked at this photo on my big monitor that I noticed the numerous horizontal waves that composed the entire photo; I count nine different bands of lines, from the clouds and sky to the two coasts flanking the Minas channel (channel unseen in this photo) to the veils of fog, then the spruces of the woodlot below our place, the alders and willows, the grasses, and the white cord of our pasture fence. It's not art, but it's kind of interesting.
Photo from the Nova Scotia Museum of Natural History website
Meanwhile, the best of all possible spring gifts arrived tonight. I went out on the step just around sunset to smell the air and just revel in mild weather, when I heard the bell-like peep! peep! peep! And I started to grin. The northern spring peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) has woken even in Scotts Bay, and begun the annual chorus.
The spring peeper is as much a rite of spring as counting the snowdrops and waiting for the redwinged blackbirds to arrive. The tiny, tiny frogs begin their song shyly, just a few intermittent peeps here and there, like aural polka-dots. But with each passing night, the chorus grows and swells until it becomes this wonderful, heartwarming din, night after night after night. I shouldn't call it a din--although we have lots of peepers all around us, they aren't raucous like, say, a murder of crows descending on the trees. They sound like little crystal bells to me, and whenever possible I leave the bedroom window wide open so I can listen to them and let them sing me to sleep.
Which is what, dear friends, I'm going to let them do right now.
Spring is just awesome.