Jaci Dawn

I woke up this morning at 7:00, er- 8:00, AM. I hate Daylight Savings Time. I’ll spend the next six months trying to get my body to adjust to it, and then we’ll go back to regular time, and for what? So those darn farmers can have enough light in the day to grow crops. They can’t just get up with the sun, you know. The clocks have to change, too.

It was a beautiful day out. Another beautiful day. This is going down as one of those winters that wasn’t.

Why, just yesterday, I talked to my oldest in Alaska and she told me that they were having to truck in snow for the ceremonial start to the Iditarod. This is the second time in the history of the race that the real start has been moved further north from Anchorage, to Fairbanks.

Last year, Juneau was snowed in for months. This year, they truck in snow for the biggest race in Alaska.

By the way, the Iditarod is huge in Alaska. It’s largely ignored here in the Lower 48 (except by people like me, which is why my daughter thought to even mention it. She knows I am a fan of the endurance mushing race).

All that to say this: she ended our conversation with, “I think it is Spring here. We never had Winter.”

I did not take this photo today. But I summoned it out of the archives because today was Bird Bath Day. I didn’t have my camera handy for all the birds who claimed a turn at the bath. There were at least four Dark-Eyed Juncos.

(Obviously this photo wasn’t from today, either. The sun was out and not a rain cloud in the sky, much less a rain drop). I saw a robin in the bath and a Spotted Towhee and a Brewer’s Blackbird.

The Brewers Blackbirds were sitting in the neighbor’s tree, singing. They sound so pretty. I think one of these birds (the lower one) is actually a European Starling.

I love this photo of the Fox Sparrow in the Hawthorne, in part because the Camellia in the background looks like an Easter Egg tree.

I didn’t do much in the yard today. There’s not much to do in March when the weeds are slow and the established perennials are just poking up through the soil. We haven’t passed the Last Frost date, so I don’t want to plant anything. Actually, TRUTHFULLY, I didn’t WANT to do much today.

Harvey, on the other hand, was a very busy bee.

He went hunting.

He went digging.

Yes, our dogs dig holes in our back yard. But so does the Mole.

“Dey’s moles in dere. I can hear dem walkin'”

That’s a paraphrase of a quote my toddler son made one morning when we were commuting down the freeway. We were passed by a van with penguins painted on the side. My son said, “Dey’s penguins in dere.” I asked, “So how do you know that?” “I can hear dem walkin’.”

This is pure, unfiltered joy.

Determination.

Sadly, this sort of enthusiasm leads to this (and this is the CLEANED UP version).

Yes, I have resorted to Dog Shaming after a day of Hole Digging.

Why? Why?

Because this is how it really looks:

Just click on that baby and take a look. Or cue Kenny Loggins. There’s not a dog in our life that is gonna catch that Mole.

Burr hurr aye.