Spring Forward

I don't care if it means we lose an hour.  I don't care that the morning comes earlier.  The Spring Time Change always gives me a little lift.  The brighter evenings puff me up a bit.  It's as if all this time I've been humoring the New Year, playing along so I don't hurt It's feelings but not taking It all that seriously; then, suddenly, the spring time change pushes me over the edge into solid belief.  Yep, New Year, you are really here.  I see you, smell you, breathe you. I'm really moving now.  I don't know if I'd call it springing, exactly.  But I'm moving now, and the direction is forward.

Blooms and buds are busting out all around us:

The little ones have more daylight for springing:

The chickens are wicked frisky.  One lady in particular, Rosie, puffed up by spring, has become fiercely defensive of the nestbox and any eggs (or, ahem, egg-like objects) that happen to be in the nest box.  The other chickens, poor girls, have to stand in line for an hour or more at a time waiting for their turn after Rosie stakes her claim in the nest box.  Sometimes I think I catch them rolling their eyes at Rosie, as if to say, "Jeez, does she think she invented egg-laying or what?"  Check Rosie out, deeply offended because the next hen in line is giving her the hurry-up talk:

And, in case you missed it, a close-up of the Evil Eye this chicken has perfected.  Scary, right?:

The eggs and egg-like object she is defending:

And have you seen the skies lately? Every night I get home from work and head directly to the backyard hammock to breathe in the skies.  I allow myself those few minutes of stillness before joining the rush again. Such lovely spring skies.

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