Here in Seattle at the epicenter of the coronavirus, and the butt of a lot of toilet paper jokes (see what I did there? I blame this stupid epidemic), we tend to ruminate more about what’s in front of us at home.

Since we are home, and in theory could scare away any hawks that stray into urban territory, that means Jason has been letting the chickens out for the day and locking them in at night. It’s also why he’s spent extra cycles on the Rat Wars; he can’t really get away from the battlefield like the days when he was commuting to work.

But what the panicked world also doesn’t know about Seattle is, is that it is spring. Seattle springtimes mean a lot more to the people who live here. For many months we have suffered under cold, rainy drizzle with a lot of darkness and then more darkness sprinkled on top of it. We have fled to Hawaii or California if we can afford it, anything to break up the monotony and oppressiveness of a weather that sneers at our Goretex and scoffs at the triple lattes we are consuming to stay awake and not hibernate.

We understand about fighting the darkness to the marrow of our bones. And don’t mistake me; it hasn’t left yet. The war for the soul and the health of Seattle isn’t over yet. Even the dang Rat War isn’t over yet.

But now… we look up, we look outside.  Coronavirus be damned, spring is also here. There is darkness, but also, there is chicken, and a lot of squawking and rooting for worm.

Of course, only AFTER  I bought 3 dozen eggs to last us through work-from-home mandates, the hens decided it was spring enugh to get busy. Including Startup 2.0 (layer of the blue egg).

In Seattle springtimes, if the sun shows through the clouds for 10 minutes, we remark on it.  I have definitely seen blue in the sky intermittently the past week – maybe even more than just in the 10-minute increments. It’s been sharply cold during those sun breaks but still… enough to con the trees into showing off.

The trees are definitely doing their number on my allergies.

Keep checking for virus symptoms but no, it’s just the trees.

Even the chickens get “yard-fever” and try to break out, though Jason has dissuaded them with stringing wires atop the fences and general arm flapping.

The plum tree has flowers and  our one plum-crazy hen (who will no doubt be featured later in the year in her aerial acrobatics) is already fluttering up to EAT THE FLOWERS. What is wrong with you, feathery dino!?? There is no fruit up there yet!!

Honestly, the best you can do about springtime in Seattle is savor it, get out the Kleenex(tm) , and don’t lose your head.  Summer will get here eventually, even if it lasts just a full 30-minutes and you overturn your kayak. We will all wash our hands, long enough and frequently enough. We will make jazz hands and elbow tap. We will look after our neighbors. And we will get through this spring  of COVID-19 . Together.

In closing, Jason and I hope you will take Ricardo and Hat Chicken’s admonition and seek out friends  & neighbors (if you don’t have the luxury of feathered, make do with human ones). It’s  a weird spring and it makes people hesitant. Just like the wintery dark makes us hole up and hide with our Netflix. We can be medically safe and still socially support each other.

A text, a FB post, a squawky walk on the sidewalk. They do wonders for the soul in Seattle springtime and dammit, regardless of  mayhem and madness, we can declare it: it’s spring.

P.S. Watch me completely jinx it by blogging this.

P.P.S. Left, Ricardo. Right, Hat Chicken.