Driving home the other evening when I heard them, the sound of peepers coming from the usual spot, the wetlands at the Y in the road on Rte 133. There are a few events that herald the arrival of spring in New England to one and all, crocuses, geese flying north, the smell of boiling maple syrup. There is probably no sound that says that spring is here more than the sound of the peepers from a roadside marsh on a warm spring evening. It goes right to your heart.
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