"Summer" arrived out of nowhere, and the temperature quickly leapt into the 70s with abundant sunshine, garden flowers aplenty, and, amidst a generous offering of all-day bird song, the possibility that, somewhere in the local wetland, was a singing waterthrush. Well after sunset, the toads began trilling in the distance, but by the time they really cranked up the volume, it was 10:30, and I didn't think my neighbors, who hosted the toad-trilling wetland, would be all that appreciative of my coming over and slogging around in their vernal pools. I'll have some time in the upcoming days and nights, since the guys will be active through April and will, I'm sure, get started earlier. While I stood on the kitchen porch, listened, and observed the invertebrate wildlife attracted to the lights, I spotted an early surprise: a Mayfly getting ready for its brief evening in the sexual "light." These fairly long-lived aquatic larvae are beginning to metamorphose into exceedingly short-lived adults, most of which will, within 24 hours, emerge from the water, swarm together, mate, lay eggs, and then die. I'm sure it's a metaphor for something in the human condition, but I'll leave that for another time. The main message this night is that the Mayflies are rushing things... but after this quit-less winter, I'll take May in April.