We're defrosting up here in the extreme northeast. Up here in the boondocks. We are quickly approaching the fifth season of the year. Oh? You thought there were only four seasons? Oh, right. You must live somewhere other than Vermont. I use to think there was only four, too.
Welcome to Mud Season.
Don't think that's a funny blog thing I just made up. It's a legit thing. There are signs in front of country stores that say "It's Mud Season! Don't forget your boot brushes!" or something like that. It has a picture of a boot being passed through a carwash-looking contraption that strips the mud off; I can't believe this is our third Mud Season and we have yet to invest in one.
So, for you non-Vermonters, when all the insane amounts of snow begin to melt...
Don't be impressed with this snowbank. It's nothing. It's in our yard. Literally next to our driveway. Imagine what will happen when this snowbank and all its snowbanky friends and neighbors decide to melt in this wonderful spring warm spell we're enjoying. There's going to be a lot less ground/gravel/dirt, and a lot more mud puddles. And by a lot, I mean I think that I'll be swimming in a mud ocean to the car like a tugboat, pulling my kids to the minivan in a canoe.
It's already starting. First of all, when we head outside, we must don our galoshes. The kind that go over our pants and up to our knees so that when things like this happen
...it's less traumatic. Yeah, that's snow up to my knee. No big deal; it's my own fault. Should have known better than to walk anywhere.
So we wear rainboots.
And we try to dodge mud puddles.
Well, maybe not all of us. Some of us dodge them. Others of us like to sit in them. Must think it's good for our complexion.
It's so good for our souls.
You see, it has been warm here. Really warm. Like, flirting with 60 degrees. So there is no way, come hell or high water (or Mud Season), that we're going to stay inside for one more moment than necessary. It makes us smile. It makes the time fly by faster. It makes the kids more tired and go to be more contentedly at the end of the day. It makes for great pictures. So we're outside for Mud Season. And it's only just begun.
As you can see, there is still a ton of snow.
Again, this is our yard.
But we love the feeling of sunshine on our faces and warm wind on our cheeks so we are climbing these mountains to say we did. And to take photos and to call Daddy and tell him we did. Of course, they are really big mountains, so we have to bring snacks.
We bring snacks everywhere on every expedition. I decided instead of fighting it, I'd embrace the crumbs and teach Jax to do a closed-lipped smile so my pictures would stop looking like this:
Hey, Mom! Do you like seafood? Well, see food!
I'll save those terrible jokes for when he's a tween and settle for silly no-teeth smiles for now.
And since we hadn't played outside in a really long time, we got a little silly. Like propping-my-kid-on top-of-our-wood-pile silly. Since the snow nearly reaches the top of it, it isn't nearly as daunting or dangerous as it used to be. Plus it looks so rustic and Vermonty.
When the photo shoot was over, we trekked down to the bottom of our driveway to check out monstrous snowbank created by the town plows. You may recall from this day that our street is pretty deserted and our driveway is very long, so a simple walk to the street and back is fairly entertaining. Especially when we've been house-bound for five months.
I pushed Em in the stroller, and since she had a Snack Trap full of puffs, she pretty much kept to herself. Like those Carl's Jr. commercials in San Diego: "Don't bother me. I'm eating."
So we headed down to tackle the big snowbank (that's Jax's little man muscles voice). And he was right to be impressed. It's the biggest snowbank I've ever tackled.
To read more about our muddy adventure, click here!