It was 77 degrees here yesterday. The resident birds worked themselves into a frenzy of song. I can hear them out there again today. I expect we'll be seeing baby birds before too long. I also heard the frogs peeping last evening. That is a sure sign of spring. The peepers are one of my earliest childhood memories. I remember my mother holding me as we stood outside in the growing dark. She told me that the peeping sound that enveloped us was the frogs awaking to spring.
What is it that makes early memories? An experience with strong emotion surrounding it? An experience reinforced by repeated retelling? An experience of something so new that it deeply embeds in our mind and heart?