Mud Seasons
The lay of the land is beneath my feet, the roots and ridges, the mud I'm not always able to avoid. When I lived in New England, mud had a season. It followed winter and preceded spring. But here in these more temperate climes, mud is often with us.
Today, for instance, as I decide whether I'll walk in the woods or on the street, mud must be factored into the equation. Will I squish and squash, or simply plod?
Mud trips me up and slows me down. To avoid it requires detours or balancing on a two-by-four that another hiker has thoughtfully left behind.
On the other hand, mud means warmth ... or at least a semblance of it.
Today, for instance, as I decide whether I'll walk in the woods or on the street, mud must be factored into the equation. Will I squish and squash, or simply plod?
Mud trips me up and slows me down. To avoid it requires detours or balancing on a two-by-four that another hiker has thoughtfully left behind.
On the other hand, mud means warmth ... or at least a semblance of it.
(One of the best mud pictures I have is from a work trip to Bangladesh.)
Labels: topography, walking
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