I Hate Mud

I'm not a spring lovin' kinda gal. Lots of people say spring makes them come alive, feel energized, want to tackle new projects, take on the the world. What's wrong with me? I dread it like the plague. What a yucky time of year. Cold, damp, drippy, wet . . . and muddy. Ugh.

This is the part of our driveway just coming into the yard. No matter how much gravel we put on the road here, come spring it disappears. The mud eats it.

We've always had a dog and always lived in the country. No sidewalks or paved streets for our four-legged, hairy creatures to prance around on. They have always seemed to actually enjoy plodding through any part of the yard that has bare dirt showing. And, oh, it's always so interesting to check out all of the oozey, gooey garden soil as soon as it becomes uncovered.

You can see the toes of my shoes as I stand contemplating a rather large puddle out behind the house.

Our dogs have all been trained to know that when the spring melt and mud arrive, they come in the door but must stand on the rug until all four muddy paws have been wiped off with a damp cloth. There are even some days when all four feet need to be unceremoniously dipped in a small bucket of warm water, swished around and then dried before entry to the house is gained. I bet they all have learned to count to four because it's a routine we go through ("Okay, that's one foot, that's two, gimme number three, etc., etc.") several times a day. Multiply that procedure by three these days since we've been keeping our daughter and son's-in-law two dogs while they are in Arizona and I feel like I'm continually letting in a small troop of doggie soldiers who have been on a training hike through the mud flats.

That's Zoey in the background and our granddog, Tucker, in front sitting on some straw that we spread on an especially muddy path from the deck to the greenhouse door.

My birthday falls in the month of April and whenever anyone asks what I'd like for my birthday, I always answer, "Asphalt." But, let's face it (andkwitcherbellyakin , Mama Pea), mud comes with the territory. Would I want to live in suburbia, in a high-rise condo in Minneapolis, in a part of the country where we didn't have snow to melt in the spring and make mud. Nope, 'course not. I love living in the woods, away from sidewalks and concrete. I love watching the birds and squirrels (and yes, dogs, too) drinking from the mud puddles in the driveway, seeing the wet, soggy garden beds emerge from the melting snow. Being able to go outside without long underwear and wind pants and hat and gloves and a big, bulky coat.

A river runs through it . . . the small road going to our back wood working and storage area.

Hrumpf. Well, maybe spring isn't all bad. Who says it's not a perfect time to curl up on the couch and read? Maybe I'll avoid the mess and mud by staying inside and cleaning out my desk. Good time to cook and bake all day. I'll quilt in my cheery quilt room with some good music playing. Good grief, there's spring house cleaning to be done! I can easily occupy myself, so I'll just stay inside until the mud dries up and goes away.

Can you toilet train dogs?