Day 945 Muddy March

After what feels like an eternity of cozy blankets and endless indoor life, I finally made it outside! A week spent snuggled in bed at home had me craving the fresh air. I found myself missing the wind’s chill and even the raindrops tapping on the windows, reminding me to stay put. But my yard, which had become cluttered with sticks and debris during my hibernation, now seemed oddly welcoming. Of course, Mother Nature had a different idea—she gifted me a to-do list, one full of branches and winter’s leftovers. It’s like she’s saying, “You’ve had your rest. Now get to work!”

March is one of those months that sneaks up on you, leaving your spirits a bit damp and your boots a little muddy. I call it Muddy March. The trees stand bare, like nature’s bare-bones wardrobe before the big spring fashion reveal. No buds in sight, just empty branches reaching up, waiting for the sun to notice them. While March might seem dreary—full of the messes left behind by winter storms—there’s something else about it, too. Muddy March is the eve of spring. It's like the universe is taking a deep breath, preparing for the grand parade of colors, smells, and sunshine.

So, as I ventured out into my soggy yard, it wasn’t just to clean up the mess. It was more like a mission—an expedition. I made my way down to the river, carefully picking up sticks (because why not? They were everywhere) and assessing the scene. While the mess was unavoidable, there were a few surprises hiding among the chaos. Tiny flowers—brave little things—had popped up through the grass, as if they couldn’t wait to remind me that even in the mud, there’s beauty. They were scattered here and there, as though dropped by a whimsical fairy, offering the tiniest glimpse of hope.

But it wasn’t just about the flowers. The river, although a mess, looked peaceful—calm, even. It was like nature itself was taking a nap, getting ready to jump into action. Muddy March isn’t just about waiting for spring to arrive. It’s about witnessing nature’s prep work. The small things—the little flowers, the river’s slow flow—remind us that there’s a lot going on beneath the surface.

And let’s not forget about Daylight Savings Time. We switched our clocks on Sunday, and I have to say, I’m a fan. The extra daylight in the evening feels like a gift. I no longer feel like I’m stuck in the perpetual dark of winter. I celebrated by staying outside, even into the evening, basking in the glow of longer days. It was like a permission slip to stretch my legs, enjoy the fresh air, and just be outside a little longer.

There’s something magical about sunshine in the late afternoon, a gift of extra time. As I got home with plenty of daylight still left, I had time to tend to my chickens and just soak in the outdoor vibe. It was a little like being a kid again, when the sun stayed up later, and the promise of spring felt just a bit closer.

For the first time in months, I felt like I was coming out of my own hibernation. Slowly, but surely. The days are longer, the flowers are popping up, and the river is still flowing—albeit more peacefully. Spring is right around the corner. While we’re still in the messy days of March, I’m ready to embrace it. The transition isn’t always neat, but it’s always worth it. So, here’s to Muddy March, the quiet before the bloom. We’ll get there, slowly-but surely.