Being an Oregonian, I consider myself well versed in rain, in all its forms, which then creates mud. Having four children and living in a split entry home until last year, got me very familiar with mud in the house. It always surprised me how other people don’t make this connection. Rain falls. A LOT!!! Rain on dirt makes mud. Walking gets mud on shoes. Running into the house and avoiding all strategically placed door mats enabled me to enjoy mud indoors as well as outdoors. Sigh.
Then we got two dogs. Dogs have the advantage of not being able to open the door by themselves, but they also can’t take off their shoes. To keep mud off the carpet, you have to wipe their feet. It’s best to dip each paw in water otherwise the mud still gets on the carpet. Now enter the four children onto the scene. Since children rarely notice the mud on their own shoes, they certainly don’t think about dog paws. Dogs run fast and leave a trail of footprints through the kitchen and into the living room faster than you can blink. Double sigh.
Now I’m getting to farm mud. I’m used to having so much rain that the lawn turns into a sponge. I’m used to low spots that collect water and tear up the ground if walked on too much. I knew that getting a 1,000 pound horse would change the landscape of our property, but still I wasn’t prepared for the mud. (All you farmers out there are probably saying, “Duh!” right now.)
Stepping out the back of the barn, I’m met with an expanse of straight mud. No grass at all anymore. The chickens started it when we kept them in a fenced area. They denuded the grass pretty quick. Within a short time, our horse Montana turned much of our property into a quagmire. I was at my son’s gymnastics meet a month ago and looked down at my jeans. What the heck? I had mud specks from the knee up. I thought knee high rubber boots would protect me. I’m now learning about splashing mud.
And my favorite? Recently my husband and I took a walk around around our property. On the way back to the house my boot sunk so deep I couldn’t get it out. Trying to pull my foot out required me to lean harder on the other foot. Now both my boots were stuck fast. I call to my husband to pull me out because he had the good sense to keep to the grassy spots. He glanced back over his shoulder with a look of disbelief and said, “Seriously?”
About this time, Montana, decided to gallop at full speed in circles around the property. Apparently, my husband realized I was serious because I made no move to get out of the way as our horse headed straight for me at top speed. I imagined throwing myself sideways to get out of the way and landing face down in the mud/manure mixture. My knight in shining armor stepped in and waved Montana away then pulled me out – each boot resisting but eventually giving up with a serious sucking noise.