Ah! Spring weather is upon us. We’ll see warmer weather, leaf buds, early crocuses and, of course….
Wonderful, gooey, ooey, sticky, icky mud!
As the snow melts, the runoff creates a thin trickle that percolates down to the field. The tiny rivulet runs down the slight slope toward the grass, spreading wider with each inch.
Once solid footing becomes squishy and murky. Your boots call out, “schlp, schlp,” until you realize that only one boot is still making noise. The other is embedded in the mire. Hop, hop, hop back to your boot.
On the other side of the new swamp, friends concoct a meal fit for the king of ooze. Into the bucket go shovelfuls of solid and liquid H2o. Buckets of watery mud are carted to the pot, adding to the brew. To add more mud or stick with ice? Does it need more wood chips? Did you stir it twice?
All this in a mess. A natural mess compounded by art. How to get clean, where even to start?
The snow! The snow!
We’ll roll in the snow. The abrasive top coat is just enough to scour our suits. We leave brown streaks behind to show where we’ve been.
We’ve explored measurement, space and fluidity, too. We’ve mud on our face. It’s time to go in.