… because the kids “help.”
Jane has got the right idea.
When your shirt gets dirty in the mud puddle you take it off because it needs washing.
It’s a good first step.
She’s also onto the fact that washing involves scrubbing in water.
Even though she seems to take after me, (laundry does not make her smile) I think she’s well on her way to being an expert clothes washer.
Her drying technique on the other hand…
…now that’s a problem!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Masterpiece .
One Gravel Driveway + One Hose = One Masterpiece In The Making
One Finished Masterpiece + One Little Sister = One Big Stomp
One Big Stomp = Trouble!
There is nothing like a good paper flotilla to brighten a foggy day!
Welcome to Mud Season, may all your puddles be filled with paper boats!
Yesterday I tweeted a picture of my dirty, dirty, dog along with my wishes that the cold snap we are supposed to get hurry itself up and gets here already. I woke this morning to discover that last night’s rain had turned to snow and I hastened to let my, dirty, dirty, dog out of his kennel and sent him out into the snow with happy thoughts of frozen mud and the cleansing power of running through snow.
Sadly, the mud was not frozen…
…and the cleansing power of running through snow was not all it was cracked up to be.
In fact on closer inspection… …I realized it wasn’t just snow flying through the air as he zoomed around the yard.
What do you think, is it too late to change his name to Pig Pen?
Weekly Photo Challenge: Changing Seasons
Here in Southern Wisconsin, we were in the midst of changing seasons from fall to winter when we landed smack in the middle of the dreaded fifth season of the year. For those of you lucky enough to have no idea what I’m talking about let me fill you in on the mud season.
Mud season has the obnoxious habit of sneaking around twice a year, first it shows up right when you are hoping for spring. It bogs down everything, get everywhere and right when you are just about ready to throttle the next person (clearly one with no dogs/kids/big yards/small farms/ducks/chickens/gravel driveway) who talks about what lovely weather we are having spring is here for good.
Then again just when we get a snowfall and are dreaming of white Christmases it rears it’s big ole muddy head again. Snow one day, sun the next and we end up with muddy slop everywhere. I love living where the seasons change but sometimes the actual changing of the seasons leaves a bit to be desired – bring on the cold!
It’s true that Trip’s feet are suspiciously clean for a mud season picture. Let me assure you that it was just a fluke and I’ve got the muddy prints all over the floor to prove it!
In the course of the week this photography challenge has given me a new philosophy.
Don’t look down!
Down is mud. Down is dirt on the floor. Down is whining kids on your leg. Down is Trip about to jump up with muddy paws. Down is Storm getting ready to make sawdust of a stick on your foot. Down is the stuff that I never put away, the toys the kids haven’t put away, the food the falls on the floor. Down is bad.
From now on I’m looking up. I’m looking over, I’m looking sideways, I’m looking out, I’m looking anywhere but straight down!
That’s where I find my husband, happy kids, running dogs, where I can almost see the yard for the mud, and where the dirt and mess on floor can be overlooked for a bit as I go about enjoying my day.
I’ll be working on keeping my chin up, literally, except for a few moments like this, when it pays to look down.
I’d like to round up every weatherman in the area who is talking about the gorgeous/lovely/beautiful/warm temperatures we are having and invite them over.
I’m not going to open the gate for them, that way they’ll be forced to step into the gigantic puddle when they get out of their cars to open the gate Then I’m going to send them to get a bucket of water out of the now literal mudroom (which is also where I do laundry and paint shutters- NOT a good combo) and have them walk the bucket over the mix of ice, snow and mud to the chicken coop. I hope that they don’t actually fall down with their five gallon bucket of water. Almost falling and wrenching every muscle in their body as their feet frantically look for solid footing is much more what they deserve. Once they arrive at the chicken coop which is thawing into the nastiness that chicken coops thaw into when the weather breaks they can quickly water the chickens before heading back. On the way back I’m sure they’ll see my ducks. My ducks whom tried to take baths in the melting puddles but just ended up muddy disasters, I hope they feel bad at the pitiful sight they now are.
Perhaps as they splash back across the river that was formerly my driveway they’ll indulge in a bit of puddle stomping with the girls. While they are distracted with that I think I’ll open their car doors and watch Piper leave Great Dane sized mud prints all the way through to the back where she will sit innocently as if she materialized there and didn’t just run over all the seats.
After I send them back home to their houses (that no doubt have paved driveways and sidewalks leading to their doors )and they launder everything, including their car seats, hopefully they’ll be able to come up with a much more appropriate description of this February thaw we are having.
I’d help them come up with one myself but mine all involve four letters and can’t be said on the radio.