The roads might brown with slush and dirt; the snow banks in our driveway might be so high that my husband, Clif, can no longer easily scoop the snow over them; and the snow might be up to the lower edge of our windows, but—glory be!—Monika’s hens have started laying eggs again.

In my little world, this is cause for great celebration. It means despite all the snow, spring is coming. The days are getting longer, and accordingly, the hens have begun laying again. Hens are sensitive to the amount of available light: the less light there is, the fewer eggs they lay. (Commercial coops get around this by providing artificial light.) So even though it doesn’t feel like spring is coming, Monika’s hens are telling me otherwise.

Then there are the eggs themselves—beautiful, varied in color, and with such bright yolks that they turn any batter a deep yellow. When I eat Monika’s eggs (or rather her “girls’ eggs), I feel as though I am getting a food that is not only delicious but also healthy. Additionally, I know Monika treats her girls well, and that gives me a good feeling. There are many different ways of being “a good eater,” and one of them is having a more compassionate attitude toward the animals that provide our food. With Monika’s eggs, I can eat without guilt. Her hens have plenty of space and have plenty of wholesome food to eat.

More exciting news! Monika has just bought chickens that will produce a dark, brown egg, adding to the already lovely variety of her eggs. And, she said that Clif and I could come to her place—Wildermirth Farm—to photograph her chickens, which we will do as soon as the snow melts and the mud dries.

Now, I expect some readers might be thinking: If eggs are such a thrill, then this woman spends too much time at home. And they might have a point. I do spend a lot of time at home. An average week might involve one trip to Augusta, twelve miles away. A big trip would be to Waterville, to Railroad Square Cinema, twenty-five miles away, and this is something my husband and I do only once or twice a month. Although we make exceptions for family and friends (after all!), we limit how much driving we do. As our awareness of peak oil and climate change has grown, the amount of time we spend in our car has lessened. How can we encourage others to conserve if we are not willing to do so ourselves?

Gone are the days when we would toot to the coast, fifty or sixty miles away, just for the heck of it. Nowadays, our world encompasses a three-mile radius, with occasional excursions (for me) to Augusta. Alas, Clif must drive to work in Augusta each day, and there is no public transportation available.

So we revel in local eggs as well as the library, fish chowder luncheons at the Congregational Church, chili challenges at the high school, and other local events. Do I feel confined? No, not really. My small world is interesting and engaging to me, and the computer keeps me connected to the larger world.

I’d like to end this post with a quotation from Carl Safina, author of The View from Lazy Point: A Natural Year in an Unnatural World: “If you look right, you can see the whole world from wherever you happen to be.”

This just goes to show where wonderful eggs can lead—to nutrition to peak oil to literature. That’s quite a journey.