it was a perfectly...

...beauty-full day. Nothing to do, no where that was desperately calling me to provide my undivided attention. Warm sunshine, and recent rains that had washed all the pollen out of the air, so there was not the usual haze floating across your field of vision. Which would normally, at this time of year when all the trees are starting to bloom, make you think your eyeglasses were smudged, in need of cleaning. .

Last Saturday morning: I had returned from a week in Virginia where there were zero signs of spring approaching. Mostly cloudy days, with overcast sky making everything look drab and dreary. No budding trees, to start providing color to bare limbs in the landscape. No early bulb plants trying to reach the light of day, pushing forth from dark earth into sunlight.

And arrived in Atlanta, where all the early bloomers were in glorious color. The bright yellow trumpet shaped blooms of Carolina Jasmine were open high in the tree tops. The brilliantly blooming wee flowers of forsythia was gently swaying on long stems in the breeze. The gorgeous mauve cup-shaped flowers of Japanese Magnolia trees were at their peak. Daffodils of all varieties in profusion. Those Bradford pear trees that have become such a nuisance in the landscape, where they volunteer prolifically, were abloom in great clouds of tiny white blossoms.

A glorious day to be alive. So I took my little cup of hot tea and walked out in the back yard on Eleanor Street where I had spent the night. The chickens had been released to cluck, scratch, roam around in the back yard, where they were industriously rearranging the leaf litter/mulch, hoping to unearth juicy morsels. Sitting in the rocking chair, observing the beauty of the planet as the season almost instantly changed from chilly winter in Virginia to balmy spring of Georgia.

Then: one of my most favorite people brought me a plate of food. Grits and eggs. Perfect. I shared some of the steamy creamy grits with the chickens. The ladies provided great entertainment when they pecked at the little clumps, and got surplus on their beaks: wiped them clean, and went back for more. There was a lot of competition the small morsels of creamy cooked corn, creating much conversation, chatter among the pullets who all came a-runnin' at the first sight of something new to inspect/eat and discuss, in the way only a crowd at a hen-party can do!