It’s finally mud season in our neck of the woods

Based on firsthand experience this morning, I can attest that township gravel roads have become very muddy. I even saw melt water flowing in one of the roadside ditches where, in the not too distant future, I expect to see marsh marigolds.

mud season on gravel roads

Photo by J. Harrington

The kind folks in the Twin Cities and at least one of the local tv stations did a report that made me feel better about the shape of our driveway. Even good-sized cities like Minneapolis and St. Paul are having problems with removing ice and compacted snow and where to put it all after it’s been removed. We’re very close to the stage of “Mother Nature put it there, let her take it away.” 

The pond to our north is displaying hints that it wants to open its water and flow. Our snow-covered roof is not covered as deeply as it was a couple of days ago. Dark spots on the driveway, like leaves that fell last autumn, are absorbing enough heat from the little sun we get to melt the ice on top of them. Winter, like many of us, has grown old and is beginning to fall apart.

To the Thawing Wind

Robert Frost - 1874-1963

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

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Please be kind to each other while you can.