Who was the genius who said "let there be light" exactly?

So today is officially the first day of spring, but there are still crusty snowbanks clinging to the dead slimy ground.



Spring in the country may be stinky, but spring in the suburbs is just plain ugly.

The spring-forward time change happened over a week ago, but I still feel like I haven't quite recovered my balance. Two weeks ago I could open my eyes, after slowly realizing that the voices I hear are actually on the radio and not in my head, and there was light.

This week I sort through the head/ radio voice confusion and it's still dull and grey outside. I have been having the hardest time dragging my butt out of bed lately.

I go through this every year but it's particularly bad because spring-forward happened much earlier this year. Apparently it has something to do with conserving electricity, which is another thing I can't quite get my head around, and that in this country we did it so that we'd be on the same time as the States. Well, all of us except for the Amish. And Saskatchewan. I'm going there in a week and a half. I'm not worried about time confusion though because any place that I get to on an airplane is in a different time zone for me even if it's not for the rest of the world. Right? Right???

What troubles me is that this all feels so unnatural! I'm disoriented. Don't get me wrong- it's great to have daylight at supper time. However, I keep on feeling like it can't be suppertime yet or maybe it should have been already, and nothing is really happening at the time it should be happening.

Last week I went out to the barn after supper. The sunset in the watercolour sky was spilling in through the west windows of the barn, lighting up the stalls as I puttered around the barn.


It was nice. But it was weird. Normally if it was this bright outside still, all the snow would be gone, the corral would be dried up, and the horses would be on full-time turnout. I wouldn't even be in the barn.




I headed back into the house feeling totally disgruntled. After ditching my coveralls in the cellar I flung open the kitchen door and announced to my mom: "Okay, I have to be totally honest about this. I can't pretend to like this anymore."

She looked at me in confusion and alarm.

"I don't like this early spring-forward time change!"

Relief. "Neither do I," she fessed up. "I have no idea what time it is."

I had to sheepishly grin because, well, I kind of never really know what time it is. Ever.

Time for putting away my winter coat, dammit.