Peepers

Sometimes photos just don't capture it. I'm not much of a writer, but some moments just deserve words.

I took the red dog for a walk tonight. It was a perfect, still night. No stars. The air was heavy and humid with a wind blowing high though the trees, too high to feel but strong and loud all the same. We walked through the stillness until we reached the top of the hill. It drops down again into a wet, still marsh and there the peepers were deafening. The first peepers of the year are always significant. They sing to spring and of warm summer nights. These guys made no small entrance. I don't remember ever hearing them so loud. Interesting, they kept to one side of the road. On the other side, where the water was moving, it was silent. It was like wearing headphones with one broken ear piece.

I was going to stop at the end of the neighborhood. It was late, and we'd avoid traffic by turning around. Iris believes that cars need chasing, and sticking to the neighborhood usually means seeing no cars. It's a good compromise. But I could hear the peepers down by the pond, and the pull to go down there was strong. It meant a longer walk, and Iris was happy to go along. The night was so peaceful, there seemed no reason to head home just yet.

We got to the beach and the gate was slightly ajar. It's a public beach, but it felt like we were intruding on the stillness of the place. We padded softly inside and across the sand. The water is high and deep. The peepers called out from down the shallow end of the pond. Clouds covered the stars but the wind rippled the water and caused the lights to shimmer across the surface. I stood listening, while the red dog explored the scents on the sand. We left as quietly as we'd entered.

As we past the old airport field, an airport than doesn't see planes anymore and half the buildings have been torn down, Iris started to walk down the path. I was thinking the same thing, little girl. The wind continued to rumble above us. Even without the moon, it was light enough to see in the field. We only made it about 3/4 of the way down when Iris spotted something. A raccoon? A fox? I could see the shape but not close enough. He started to move away from us and then circled back and into the path ahead of us. Iris was straining at the leash. She wanted to tussle. I think he just wanted to head for the treeline. We left him to his hunting.

As we walked toward home, the wind changed from a rumble to a roar. Lightning flickered, but without thunder. The air still hung heavy around us while the wind tugged at the tops of the trees making them creek and groan. We left the water behind us and the silence returned. One more spot of marsh, this time it was filled with wood frogs. They sound like ducks. Iris wasn't convinced.

And there was one last lonely peeper calling as we walked back up the street and slipped inside before the rain.