"Peepers!"

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!"

Making Dirt

I am the proud owner of a brand new compost bucket complete with a lid so I no longer have to use a salad plate to cover up the used coffee filter and eggshells. The new vessel looks like Oscar the Grouch's famous house only hot Pepto-Bismol pink. I love it. Val purchased it for me after I admired her new stainless steel compost can sitting on the wooden counter top in her kitchen. Although this bucket is not an official composting tool, it does the job nicely, much better and far more attractive than the margarita mix bucket I have been using for the past couple of years.
I have been recycling my scraps for quite a while now and the compacted, rotting mess inside the black Darth Vader looking composter sitting in the corner of my yard needs to be put to good use. I know I need a lesson in aerating and turning it so the worms can do their work. The pile of fermented orange peels and tea bags has been neglected for far too long. The squirrels have figured out how to loosen the lid or maybe its because we don't properly tighten it. And Stella, the dog, has been known to chew on corn cobs peeking out of the hole in the top. After she ingests too much of the indigestible roughage, she comes in to throw up on the carpet as if to remind me of the project that so desperately needs attention. That should provide enough motivation to deal with the compost once the ground thaws out. But for now, I am happy to fill my hot pink pail with leftovers from soup making, and apple peeling. I can't wait to have some dinner guests over to see my new counter top fixture. Especially my brother-in-law. He always used to look in the old bucket to see what was in there. Now, when he lifts the lid, hoping to find cookies or some delightful confection inside, he will instead encounter the cast offs of my labor.