mud, mud, glorious mud
1. I live on a dirt road.
2. I live in New England.
3. It is spring.
These things combined mean one thing:
MUD
Thick, squishy, sloppy, deep, rutty, glorious(??) mud.
It means all those potholes we've memorized over the past month(s) are now filled with, well, ooze. And the once hard, frozen road feels alive under our feet, or tires, as the case may be. In some places, the ruts are so deep our tires sink half way up. No need to steer, the deep ruts work like a track guiding us down the hill, or up the hill, depending. We sigh and let go of dreams of replacing our 10-year-old RAV with a cute little Honda Fit, or in bigger dreams, a Prius. We'd bottom out before going ten yards.
All this mud makes us slow down. Makes us pay attention. CLOSE attention.
And that's a good thing.
I don't know about you, but lately I could use a little mud in my life. A little of nature's brakes. I open my calendar file and see how many talks and events I've got scheduled in the coming months and feel panic rise in my chest. I'm used to spending all of my energy stressed about ONE talk or so a year. During March and April alone, I have SIX. This will either cause me to have a nervous breakdown, or cure my stage fright at last.
What I love about spring is marking the snow melt. Rejoicing the first time I can walk all the way around the house without touching an inch of frozen white stuff. Inspecting the ground closely as I walk, looking for any sign of life starting to poke through the soil. Celebrating the first crocus. The first glimpse of green daffodil and tulip stems. (I just realized this makes it sound like I have the most boring life on the planet. Um. No comment.)
ANYway. Yesterday, I stepped out on the deck and saw the crocuses were already coming up. Along with the iris. In MARCH!
Spring, along with everything else, is rushing forward. I wish we could slow it down a bit so we could enjoy it. I wish we could just get stuck in the mud for a while and remember how glorious it is. Life. Earth defrosting. A promise of green things to come. Of warm days headed our way. Of the first outdoor dinner made from the garden. Of the first no coat day. The first t-shirt and sandals day. First swim. In New England, each of these is precious, especially when in May, the first load of wood is delivered and you start stacking in preparation for the next winter to come.
This is all to say, I've decided to work very hard to slow down a little and enjoy these wonderful promise-y spring days, mud and all. To go outside and breathe it in at least once a day, but preferably more. To remember how lucky I am that I can do that at all. Who's with me?
"Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me follow, down to the hollow
And there let me wallow in glorious mud"
-Flanders and Swann
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Describe your favorite spring-time promise.
2. I live in New England.
3. It is spring.
These things combined mean one thing:
MUD
Thick, squishy, sloppy, deep, rutty, glorious(??) mud.
It means all those potholes we've memorized over the past month(s) are now filled with, well, ooze. And the once hard, frozen road feels alive under our feet, or tires, as the case may be. In some places, the ruts are so deep our tires sink half way up. No need to steer, the deep ruts work like a track guiding us down the hill, or up the hill, depending. We sigh and let go of dreams of replacing our 10-year-old RAV with a cute little Honda Fit, or in bigger dreams, a Prius. We'd bottom out before going ten yards.
All this mud makes us slow down. Makes us pay attention. CLOSE attention.
And that's a good thing.
I don't know about you, but lately I could use a little mud in my life. A little of nature's brakes. I open my calendar file and see how many talks and events I've got scheduled in the coming months and feel panic rise in my chest. I'm used to spending all of my energy stressed about ONE talk or so a year. During March and April alone, I have SIX. This will either cause me to have a nervous breakdown, or cure my stage fright at last.
What I love about spring is marking the snow melt. Rejoicing the first time I can walk all the way around the house without touching an inch of frozen white stuff. Inspecting the ground closely as I walk, looking for any sign of life starting to poke through the soil. Celebrating the first crocus. The first glimpse of green daffodil and tulip stems. (I just realized this makes it sound like I have the most boring life on the planet. Um. No comment.)
ANYway. Yesterday, I stepped out on the deck and saw the crocuses were already coming up. Along with the iris. In MARCH!
Spring, along with everything else, is rushing forward. I wish we could slow it down a bit so we could enjoy it. I wish we could just get stuck in the mud for a while and remember how glorious it is. Life. Earth defrosting. A promise of green things to come. Of warm days headed our way. Of the first outdoor dinner made from the garden. Of the first no coat day. The first t-shirt and sandals day. First swim. In New England, each of these is precious, especially when in May, the first load of wood is delivered and you start stacking in preparation for the next winter to come.
This is all to say, I've decided to work very hard to slow down a little and enjoy these wonderful promise-y spring days, mud and all. To go outside and breathe it in at least once a day, but preferably more. To remember how lucky I am that I can do that at all. Who's with me?
"Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me follow, down to the hollow
And there let me wallow in glorious mud"
-Flanders and Swann
~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Describe your favorite spring-time promise.
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