It’s ironic to me that when the clocks move forward in March, people say, “spring ahead.” As if longer days mean we’re suddenly moving forward, making progress, gaining time. But in my world, more daylight only means more to do: more grass to cut, more beds to prep, more pruning, more planting, more catching up before the season overtakes me. Dethatch the lawn before the bulbs push through. Prune the red-stem dogwoods before they leaf out. Rake the beds before the daffodils get too tall. I make lists, I make plans, but the days have their own rhythm. The hours slip past, the sun lingers longer, and still, I fall behind.