Well, yeah -- if the show is Mud Wrestling with the Stars.
Welcome to Maine's infamous fifth season: Mud. It's what we have everywhere when it's too warm for snow and too soon for grass. Last summer, we had some topsoil brought in to level the side yard and backyard, and to fill up Charlie's archaelogical projects from last year. Unfortunately, the frost came too soon for us to be able to seed, so all we have out there now is mud, glorious mud. Charlie has even dug himself a nice "buffalo wallow" and likes to lie down in his nice big mud puddle. Better still, he's taught the little princess how to appreciate a good topsoil. I am soooooo buying rolls of turf for that yard this year -- grass seed doesn't stand a chance.
There are signs of hope, though. Sap buckets have sprouted on the sugar maples up and down our street (and someone put a couple of taps and buckets on a telephone pole -- I hope that was meant as a joke!). Maine Maple Sunday is March 25 this year, and fortunately that day doesn't coincide with Easter (as it did last year).
I wish I had more news to report, but the truth is, I'm boring. It's deadline time in the word mines, which means I've been trapped at work for 16-hour days for the past couple of weeks. My next deadline is the Ides of March, and then I'm only back to going crazy on one project until that one ships in mid-May. You can bet I'm running up the comp time; it'll come in handy for a few Friday dog shows and a yarn expedition here and there.
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