Mud To Muddle Through

Mud To Muddle Through

Mud To Muddle Through

Keeping track of where I am in the cycle of the year has changed over time. Like I suppose it has for others. It’s along the same lines of life events and wants. You remember right? Wanting to be ten, then a teenager at thirteen. Onward it was sixteen and a driver. Eighteen, just to be eighteen. The big one, twenty one. Wahoo. Then things begin to slide. It seems that now I am not looking so much at age and numbers but dates and months.

Today is the first of March. Ah March. Just what happens in March has much to do with weather. As most of the months do as time marches on. I can see that winter is on the wane and that makes for giddiness. But! Yes a giddy “but.” As soon as winter begins its departure, along comes, mud season. Yes mud season. Even if you live in a cement jungle, aka city, mud will find you. A puddle here a splash there. If however you are living in any type of rural setting? Oh the mud season is such a special place on the calendar year of events.

Why just a day or so ago, after a short warm up of a few days, I was muddling through the day and decided it was time to take the trash out. Now you should know that I live on a few acres and the trash is put into a trailer that is taken to the local dump about four times a year. That means either it is a big trailer or I am not a very trashy person. I go the size as we all know size matters. But I have gotten trashy haven’t I?

I gathered up all trash in my house and out to the trash trailer I went. Wearing a pair of slip on but rubber soled slippers that are easy on and off to go outside at a moments notice. The trek across the yard missing a hard as ice snow drift here and a lightly ice covered puddle there, yes it’s that conversion time of the year. I didn’t even think of mud. It couldn’t be muddy yet, it was still February. So I walked up to the front of the trailer and suddenly my foot sunk. Dang it.

I am pretty sure we have all gotten into this position at one time or another. Kind of like playing, “Put Your Little Foot.” Well I had put my little left foot into a nice hidden muddy, slipper sucking bog.  And if you have found yourself there, there is where you stand and take inventory of your situation. As with most of the situations I find myself in, I laughed. Pulled my foot up at the same time keeping my toes pointed up in hopes that the slipper would find pity on me and come with my foot. I have loads of experience in this situation. I wonder, is that a good thing?

After several un-ballerina like moves the foot and slipper muddled out of the sucky hole. My foot however was half way out of the deer skin tanned thing. I was lucky I still had my bag of trash to lean on. I replaced the slipper, threw the bag into the trailer and squish stepped back to the house. It is such an adventure this thing called life. But what of the other life events of the year?

Oh there is snow and ice. We all love the snow and ice season. Mukluks and coats that are so padded if you fall over you have a 50-50 chance of getting back up. Tick season is when spring has been very wet and the little blood suckers, which and here’s a lesson, love dark clothes to grab onto. They love the adventurous springtime souls who play in the brush or new grass in the woods and edges of yards.

 Really they are all wonderful times of the year. Mud and Muck, Snow and Ice, Ticks and Spiders. I like to think happily though that with all those we also get, White snow and happy squeals as a sled goes zooming down a hill. Dirt that comes alive with new growth of flowers and vegetables planted—but NOT planted too early. HAHA.

Yes, just because my slippers, well one of them, is hanging on a post outside drying from being washed in the cat water tub, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy each and every change of seasons.  Especially that one in mid summer when someone will inevitably say something crazy like, “It’s too hot.” Yes, there’s always someone who wants an apple during watermelon season.

Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Find her funny book, “They Call Me Weener” on or email her at to get a signed copy.