A few moments later I wondered, What is that sound? It reminds me of something. Like when a car fan cycles on and off. I got up to look out the window, and sure enough, a neighbor came out her door, got into the car she had warmed up with a remote, and drove off. But the shofar had done its work. I was ready for a sacred occasion.
When the sky cleared, even though it was still pretty cold, I said to Michal, Want to go out to Deep Pond? We went, and as soon as we opened the car door, we heard them. The peepers were peeping—a primal chorus of tiny frogs, hundreds of them, raising their voices in praise and yearning.
A red-winged blackbird added his quirky flute to the concert. When he coasted down toward us from a high perch, suddenly a flame of fire appeared on each wing! Maybe the Holy Spirit does not always wait for the Pentecost written on the calendar. Perhaps the earth has long been speaking in a tongue I am just learning to understand.