Mud Season

Recently I wrote about the in-between season when winter is disappearing from the Adirondacks but spring has not yet entered. Today I would like to share thoughts on what follows from that in-between season; namely, the mud season. Mud. Everywhere there is mud. Mud. Mud. Mud.

The fish, unaware of the change in seasons, wait expectantly for a minnow from a fisherman’s hole in the ice but there are not any fishermen on the ice. In fact there really is not any ice.

The dirt roads that branch off of route 8 are mired in mud. Signs were erected on these roads: “Warning! Be careful of the path you choose.” What this meant was that the dirt roads could be impossible to navigate. They were filled with muddy ruts from lumber trucks loaded with pine on their way to the sawmills. If you got caught in one of those ruts you could be in serious trouble! Eventually the roads will harden and will once again be safe to drive on but then we can look forward to being attacked by black flies. The obstacles never end!

Beyond the muddy tracks that spread from our front lawn to the lake, the perimeter of the tennis court is covered in mud. Usually, in the midst of summer, this stretch of land is lush with an assortment of sunflowers and cosmos. The cosmos, pink, white and peppermint stripe, give a wonderful color to the surroundings and the sunflowers that soar to the top of the tennis court highlight the summer days. Not now. Now it is only mud.

However, underneath the mud, cosmos seeds from the previous fall are resting and preparing themselves to emerge above ground as the weather warms. Spring is present–under the mud. Unfortunately you cannot yet catch a glimpse of the season germinating under the mud.

Perhaps all of this is a metaphor for the ending of the winter of the human spirit. We have felt bereft but if we are patient we come to life again. All that is necessary is to tend to the shoots that dwell within each one of us.

Spring exists. It is only hidden for the moment.


6 Comments Leave a comment

  1. The old blanket you kept in the trunk of your car in New Hampshire was “just in case” you needed it to put beneath your tires when stuck in the mud. Sometimes a wooden board would help too…


  2. So poignant Dan, thank you. I’m reminded of a poem from Eddie’s childhood: “Mud, mud, I love mud. I’m absolutely, positiviely wild about mud. Can’t go around it, got to go through it; mud, mud super duper mud!”
    XO Emily


  3. Ice just went out at Elk yesterday and Loons arrived same time on cue. It is so dry we missed the mud this year but spring fever is in the air.


  4. I final got your MUDDY BLOG.
    Keep going the mud never ends it’s only a matter of how you get thru it. I think you’re doing pretty good.👍👍👍


  5. Thanks for the memory G’Rabbi. In the short time I spent in the North Country what you describe was called “The Slump”. The Spring Slump; and, if you wished to cross a dirt area, you did so on duckwalks or not at all.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: