We have 5 season here in western New York. The usual four, but then, sandwiched between spring and summer is Mud Season. It is usually a solid month, frequently longer and not ending til May strolls along.
It is the one time of year living with sidewalks would be nicer, and living surrounded by muck farmland is tough. The mud permeates everything. The dogs track it in. The cats. Our shoes. The cuffs of pants, often times soaking up to mid-calf by the end of the daily walk. It wears you down.
Well, wears me down. My two walking buddies don't mind so much.
One in particular.
When I see Trillium show in the dark, damp shadows of the woods I know the end is near.
I'll let you know.
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