There can be no doubt about it... spring has sprung. Yup, it sprung all right. Sprung right out of the sky and covered the ground with daffodils and whatnot.
Normally, I would be overjoyed at the sight of all those beautiful daffodils bloomin' but this year is a little different. This year, as you may have heard, I've been confined to quarters due to the recent surgery on one of my hind ones. One of my hind quarters, that is. Well... actually... it was just my knee.
I'm on strict bed rest, you see. Well, not really bed rest. It's more like crate and couch rest. Haven't jumped up on an actual bed since my surgery. I miss jumpin' up on beds. Beds are comfy and they're cosy and make pretty much the perfect spot for nappin'. I sure would love to snuggle into some blankets on a bed right about now. Guess that won't be happenin' for a few more weeks. MOUSES!
Due to my involuntary confinement, I have unable to do my daily inspections of the daffies. Not a single one! I haven't been able to pose among them, for picture taking, either. I just know how disappointed everyone must be about this and I sure am sorry 'bout that. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty disappointed, too. I would have looked so handsome posin' among those daffy-down-dillies. The bright yellows and white complement the sterling silver tabbiness of my coat, so very well.
I sent the first peep out to take some pictures and she did an okay job of it, I think. I have also been sendin' my brothers and sisters out to do some inspections and maybe a little posin'. Seems to me though, they're more interested in the posin' part than the inspectin' part. I just hope someone is actually inspectin' stuff, making sure my daffies are okay and that nothin' is botherin' them. Nothin' like mice or voles or any other little critters that might damage my pretty little flowers. I also hope that those whom I send out to make sure nothin' is botherin' my daffies, aren't bothering my daffies... if you know what I mean. It's very important that when you pose among the daffies, you don't sit on 'em or anything. Especially if you weigh twenty pounds or somethin' like that. Like my brother Rushton does. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. He probably only weighs nineteen.
Not only have I been missin' the blooming of the daffodils but I've also been missin' the nightly nightlife. You should hear the parties goin' on around here. The last couple of weeks have been pretty mild and the peepers are out in full force. There must be thousands of 'em. Maybe even millions! Who knows for sure? I don't think there's any kind of peeper registration or anything like that. But if there was, the line to sign-up would be a mighty long line. Longer than the audition lines for American Idol! Can you imagine how tired those judges would be if they had to audition all the peepers?
Now, you might be thinkin' that I'm talkin' about my peep #1 whom I often refer to as the ol' Peepers. Nope, not this time. This time, I'm referring to the little froggy frews who peep and cheep and generally make a noisy ruckus every spring... peepers.
Well, the peepers have been out there doing their stuff. They've been singin' and singin' and singing. They've been singing their little hearts out. Gosh... they sing so loudly, they can even out-caterwaul my peep! Hard to believe but it's true. The biggest difference between the peep and the peepers is that the noise the peepers make is quite pleasant. Loud, yes, but pleasant, nevertheless. The peep has been leavin' a window open for me at night so I've been able to hear the peeper chorus quite well. It truly is a beautiful sound.
I swear those peepers are out there callin' my name. Most of the time, they sound kind of like sleigh bells or something, sort of off in the distance. I half expect for Santa to arrive, hearin' all those sleigh bells, but know that that's not possible. Santa never arrives in daffodil season. Well, at least not in Nova Scotia.
Every now and then, the general peeper chorus is interrupted by a loud soloist peeper. This soloist sings out, "Nerissa... Nerissa... Nissy..." It's true! I heard one callin' my name last night and the night before that, too. Bet one will call me tonight, as well. The soloist peepers sound so close. It's like they're right outside my window. Right outside there, waitin' for me to answer them. I feel so terrible, not bein' able to visit them or anything. I hope they'll forgive me. I think they will but one can be too sure about these things. I've heard that peepers can be fickle. Don't know if that's true or just a rumour but that's what I heard.
In the summer, a few of those peepers usually come visit me in my garden. Well, I don't know if they're the very same peepers or not. I've never actually asked them. But we always have a few froggy frews hoppin' about in the summers. They like the hostas a lot, I think. Must be yummy bugs in there or somethin'.
I wish I had a little pond for those visitin' peepers. I think they'd like that. I think they'd like that a lot. I should mention it to the ol' Peepers. You know... my peep. My peep #1. And I should mention it while I'm still under house arrest. Might manage a sympathy pond, or something like that. Hmmm... I wonder what a sympathy pond looks like. Does it look any different from a regular pond? Does anyone know? Somethin' to ponder for sure. Hmmm...