From the EastWing, Looking for the End, Going Out To Play, The Peeps of Springtime, Sounds To My Ears, That Pretty Little Springtime Friend Of Mine, Manicured Lawns & Missing Summer, The Time To Say, Bad & Ugly. Gun Control For The Good Guys.

Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.


Seems it’s happened every year forever. I look forward to the start of the tax filing season and come toward the end of March, I start looking forward to the end of the tax filing season. That time has come for this tax filing season.


The long hours for many days have been put in, the time has come. It’s time to look forward to the end of this tax filing. Season. And so I do. Come April 16th and all the world is turning green, and everybody wants to go outside and play, I go outside and play. The hard part of my work for the year is finished. The rest of my work year is pretty much scheduled at my convenience.  It’s a wonderful life.


A few weeks ago I was asked if I’d talk about the Peeps of Springtime once again, and said we’d wait to see what the little frogs had to say ‘bout that. A few days ago I received an email telling me the little frogs had made their voice heard in Kentucky and so it’s  time to once again tell the story of the Bells of Springtime.


I’m so enjoying the sounds of springtime nights.  So much so that the other night I decided to go out and visit those little sounds of the night. They’re frogs, ya know, those sounds that come to your ears from the darkness, from the nighttime. Those sounds come from little frogs called Spring Peepers.


Little fellers, them Spring Peepers, smaller than your thumb. But happy boys indeed, happy to be alive in the springtime.  All the sounds from all those little boy frogs remind me of sleigh bells ringing.  In fact, these little guys are called the Bells of Springtime. They’re certainly  music to my new ears, those Bells of Springtime. This year, with my new electronic hearing aids, it’s the first time I have heard the Bells of Springtime in a long time, a long time, and it’s still pretty music to my ears.


When the crushing cold of winter starts to yield to warmer times, as it does every year, even when we think it’ll never end, it does, and on a cold night, the wind is still, and the frost is heavy. The moon, a bright yellow ball hanging in a cloudless sky. While the air is so crisp ya could break with a hammer  a movement starts under the dead leaves of an autumn past. Life resurrecting.


First one eye, then the other, one leg moves, then the another.  In a matter of minutes  everything is working just the way he left ‘em when he dug deep under the leaves to freeze  near death for the winter.  A little frog is coming back from a place between death and darkness, a twilight zone of frogs.   A Bell of Springtime is tuning up to ring.


I almost forgot to tell ya an interesting thing ‘bout not only the Peeps but all frogs.  It’s the way they survive the winter. Now frogs have the ability to make their own kinda anti-freeze. I’m already starting to see some of my emails next week, laughing ‘bout the frog anti-freeze joke.  Before ya start laughing, ya better check it out, ‘cause I’m telling ya I know a lot ‘bout frogs.


It never ceases to amaze me how my friends of the EastWing continue to remember stories that I didn’t even think were worth remembering. Guess when it’s springtime, it’s just time for the Peeps.

I still remember a few years back, when I got my first digital hearing aids that allowed me to hear the Peeps of Springtime for the first time in many years. Tears filled my eyes as the sound filled my ears and the Peeps of Springtime once again croaked back into my life.


Peeps are kinda cool, but only when ya can hear ‘em. If ya can’t hear the Peeps, then it’s kinda like listening  a broadcast of the 4th of July fireworks on the radio. It takes something away.


It was the day before the official start of Spring. A cold day, a windy day, an overall miserable day to be outside in the weather. Yet when I reached the warm confines of the EastWing, sat down at the computer and looked out the south wall of glass, I saw seven robins on the ground. Six little boys puffing out their chests, and one little girl. And she’s having nothing to do with any of ‘em. The way those little boy robins were strutting around the yard, why, you’d think they were peacocks.  I guess little boys in the springtime are all the same. Be they birds, or cats, or rats, or elephants, little boys of springtime want to play.


Before ya know it the pretty little springtime friend of mine, that pretty little dandelion, will be a welcome guest in the EastWing gardens. Most folks loath that pretty little friend of mine. But they miss the beauty of nature when they blame that pretty little dandelion for messing up their manicured lawn. Give me a break here, do ya really think they mowed the grass in the Garden of Eden? I don’t think so. Was the pretty little Springtime Friend of Mine in that garden. Oh sure.


After all, dandelion spelled backwards is noilednad which is an old Hebrew word meaning “Little Flower Queen of The Garden”. Yet another reason I believe the dandelion was in the Garden of Eden, remember when Jesus, while at a wedding party, turned water into wine. Now just think about that for a second, Jesus wanted to do something really special. Anybody can make wine from grapes. Jesus made Dandelion Wine.


Those who spend the summer working hard to maintain that perfect lawn, well, they lose a lot. And just one of the things they lose is summer. If all your thoughts are maintaining the lawn, ya missed one of Gods greatest gifts. The gift, why it’s the summertime of course.


The email this week brought a set of most interesting questions. How are you able to think of all this stuff you say every week?  How much time do you spend on what you have to say on Sunday Night? I’m glad you asked.


How I think about what I have to say, I don’t have a clue. I just do. It seems that when I set down at the keyboard on Sunday Evening and start to type, the words are either there, or not. When the words are there, the whole evening is complete within an hour at most.


Now it’s when the words are not there, now that’s what will make my Sunday Evening stretch into the nighttime. I’ve forever said, the good stories can be told in 10 minutes. It’s the bad ones, the bad ones, they takes me hours and hours, and then they’re still  bad when I’m finished.  Bad is kinda like ugly. Ya can’t improve on bad, or ugly.


Have you noticed that in all the discussions currently going on in Washington DC,  talking about gun control, not a single politician has made any type recommendation on how to get the guns away from the bad guys?


They’ve only developed strategies on how to get the guns from the law abiding citizens. DUH! Seems like the wrong group is being targeted for gun eradication. Course the politicians may not want to make the bad guys mad. Unlike the good guys, the bad guys wouldn’t put up with their crap. They’d shoot ‘em.  After all, they’ve got all the guns they need.


Stay safe in Afghanistan.

From the EastWing, Looking for the End, Going Out To Play, The Peeps of Springtime, Sounds To My Ears, That Pretty Little Springtime Friend Of Mine, Manicured Lawns & Missing Summer, The Time To Say, Bad & Ugly. Gun Control For The Good Guys.


I Wish You Well,