Land Goes Squish

This morning, I walked outside to get the newspaper from the box at the end of the driveway and there were birds singing. There's at least one pair of pilated woodpeckers thrumming away in the trees close to the house. (For such huge birds—think Woody Woodpecker—they are amazingly difficult to see.)

When I walked down the path we keep open through the snow to the compost pile, I had to wear my rubber boots, not my winter boots. And there was this lovely "squish, squish" sound as I moved along. It kind of boggles the mind that the flattened brown material that lines that path will soon be green and in dire need of mowing.

This is also the season of slick mud. You see, the ground below the surface is still frozen while the two or three inches that are exposed to the air and the sun are not.

Later in the afternoon, when the water in these footprints is liquid again, stepping in this mud will feel a lot like walking on Vaseline. Seriously, it can be as slippery as ice with a thin coat of water which is about as efficient as you can get when it comes to taking your feet out from under you unexpectedly.

Not complaining, you understand. Just noting that spring is moving upon the land and we're gonna make it one more time.