If it's winter, it must be mud

Mary Chapin Carpenter put out a christmas album this year. It's not "Jingle Bells" and "Come All Ye Faithful." There are a few traditional, public domain songs on it, but there's a lot of original material. The thing I like about her writing is that she's able to say so much in so few words. One of the songs contains the lines: "And around here winter seems to come, with rain and mud and bits of sun. It's not exactly Currier and Ives." That pretty much sums up winter in central Virginia. It's not so much a time of snow as it is the season of everlasting mud.


Yesterday was a wintry, rainy, muddy day. I'm not sure how many inches we got, but my fire pit is full of water and the dog yards are a muddy mess. If it had been cold enough to fall as snow, it would have been a big one.

Everyone hunkers down in the rain. The inside dogs stay indoors and get bored. The outside dogs stay mostly in the outbuildings, venturing out only to do their business or for a quick romp when the rain lightens up. Consequently, on the day after rain, everyone is full of pent up energy and ready to run. Most dogs aren't bothered by mud, and it shows, on them, on me, in the house, in the kennels. If it's winter, it must be mud.

So I'm off to buy more straw. It's the best thing I've found for turning a mud pit into an inhabitable environment. The dogs love it too. They love to roll in it, play in it, and on a sunny day it's the nicest place to stretch out and enjoy an afternoon nap.