March mudness

It’s officially Mud Season.  Even when it snows in March, it just means there’ll be that much more mud as soon as the sun comes out.  There isn’t that much to look at.  We begin to dream . . . and we get through.

Mama Nature’s little joke

Mama Nature will have her little joke, and she dumped a couple of inches of packy snow on us the other night.  The next morning my YakTrax accumulated wads of snow.  There was black ice under the snow.  Next thing I knew, I was skating along on a couple of large snowballs, and then I was sliding gracefully to the ground in slow motion . . .  no picture. 

The dogs are delirious with the fine, rich scents of Mud Season.  They do not mind spring snow, although the Cowboy is a mess.  Ice balls cling to his paws and his chest and his hind quarters.  Our daily walks are followed by daily baths.  He is not happy about the baths.  Meanwhile Miss Sadie remains her tidy self.  No fool she.

Ryan’s bright red surprise

“Guess what I’m going to grow this year!” says Ryan Romeyn.  I go through a list of the usual suspects.  “No,” he says, “something I didn’t grow last year.”  I look blank.  He grew practically everything last year.  Finally, seeing that I am going to be no help whatsoever, he announces, “Strawberries!” 

The minute I got home I pawed through the freezer, shoving aside corn and peas and a chuck roast. . . there they were, gleaming red, the berries I’d sliced last summer, just for times like these.  Strawberry ice sculpture.  With no patience left, I hacked off a chunk and put it in the microwave.  They were delicious.

Civic Responsibility

The Annual Meeting of Electors of Torch Lake Township featured an extended discussion of what Supervisor George Parker called the “fragile state of the EMS ambulance service”—about which more in a separate post—and a complaint about how the meeting shouldn’t be held in March because “everybody’s gone.” Making, I guess, those of us in attendance nobody. Ah well.