Get me at the beginning of any season of the year, and I'll tell you that that one is my favorite. Today's favorite is spring, of course. It was the first day that we hit seventy degrees. I actually heard crickets, my favorite warm weather sound. I love driving past a swampy area, around dusk, and hearing those crickets. I slow down, turn down the radio, and roll down the window. What a great sound. Are these creatures aware of the emotions that they're bringing out in us?

They remind me of being in Puerto Rico. If you've never been there, well, there's this tree frog that I think lives only there, called the coqui. It has a distinctive sound which fills the tropical night air: co-qui. (Duh.)

Now I'm coming off as some kind of chirping-animal expert. But I really only know the two kinds. Warmweatherus Cricketus Americanus, and the coqui. Such a big fan of the coqui I was, as a nine year old, that I got a T-shirt down there that said "Coqui Vice." It had two coquis, dressed up as Crockett and Tubbs, leaning on a car. (This was the mid-eighties.)

Now that I think about it, those "swamp crickets" I'm hearing are probably frogs, too.

My other favorite warm weather sound is whatever bug makes that long buzzing sound.

(I'm talking nature sounds here, which is why I'm not mentioning "crack of the bat.")

So tonight, I sat ouside for a while, not taking for granted the fact that the mosquitos aren't out yet. And it is true that we vegetarians get bitten the most. Because, of course, we taste the best.

Then I looked at the weather for Monday, the big day.

"Rain/Snow/Wind/Showers"

Either they just have no idea or there's a storm of biblical proportions on the way. Both seem plausible.

I wrote this yesterday, but blogger was all screwed up. So it's already the next day, and Arroyo's about to pitch vs. the Jays. Give us something special, Bronson. Show 'em who the true #2 is.