Mud season

It's no longer February. And that is a very good thing. In my world, February is the longest month of the year. So long and difficult, in fact, that it takes me well into March to recover. By the time I come to my senses, well, here we are in mud season.

Mud season is serious business here. Much of the outdoor activity is on hold and I, for one, am trying hard not to get stuck in the driveway. (I'm also hoping my guys keep the truck out of rain-drenched fields.) Lynae was right; we're surrounded by puddles. And many of them seem to be headed straight for our basement.

The return of the birds is one nice thing about this time of year. I heard a sandhill crane a couple mornings ago. Toby noticed a robin this week, too. Soon we'll see the bluebirds, the swallows, the warblers, maybe the waxwings. The frogs will come out, and the mosquitoes, the first brave and colorful flowers... and then we'll be well into Spring. Very nice, indeed. And remembering that will get me through mud season, I'm sure.