The sun seems finally to have penetrated our wintry gray skies, and last week I saw the first robin of spring bob across our brown lawn.

To celebrate the sunshine, and to insure some good eating later this summer, I grabbed my shovel and hoe, intending to turn over a small portion of our backyard garden and sprinkle the remainder of last year's spinach seeds across the cool, damp earth.

As I stood hunched over the raised garden bed, the sun warmed my back, rekindling pleasant memories of homegrown vegetables, warm summer nights and a robin that, on spring mornings, bumps against our bedroom window.

Suddenly, the neighbor's rooster crowed, and I instinctively turned toward the weatherworn crosses that dot a corner of our property.

This is where we have buried our family's pets: dogs and cats, rabbits and gerbils, goldfish and turtles, even a pet rooster. Hearing the rooster's morning crow reminded me of our pet rooster, whose velvet black feathers would glisten in the summer sun as he belted out his lusty crow - deep and full-bodied, with its unusual lilting pattern.

Roose was an Aracona chicken, and for several years before our family moved from Ohio to Pennsylvania, he ruled over a flock of Aracona females, whose small green eggs were a delight for our young children to gather. At Easter, instead of dyeing the boiled eggs, the kids would decorate them with colorful markers and Crayons.

When we moved here, we decided to give away the chickens and take Roose with us. With no other chickens in the barn to keep him company, though, Roose would spend his days hanging out with a litter of kittens. At night, he perched high atop our back deck, out of harms way from preying nocturnal creatures.

In the morning, Roose would sit on the railing by our back door, waiting for a few crumbs to be tossed his way and the stroke of our hands across his back. At times, he would ride on one of the kid's shoulders, and he and the cat Gray Girl would stroll through the back yard, rubbing up against one another, as cats will always do.

Eventually, a raccoon attacked Roose, causing his left claw to become infected and swollen. Periodic soakings in Epsom salts helped him recover, but thereafter, he walked with a limp.

Pausing in the garden on this warm day in late March, I remember that 2005 is, according to the Chinese calendar, the Year of the Rooster, when those born are considered to be forthright and hard-working individuals with tendencies for romance and storytelling.

The year also is marked by an unusual quirk in the Chinese calendar in that there is no first day of spring, an important time of rebirth and renewal.

But standing in the garden on the cusp of a seasonal change and remembering the hearty crow of our pet rooster, I feel transformed, eager to embrace the season of sunshine and all it has to offer.