An Oh to Mud
      We were going to write an Ode to Mud, but honestly, creating three sections with a strophe, antistrophe and epode seemed a bit overwhelming.  So we're offering something we call an Oh to Mud.

As I write this, the vernal equinox has occurred and for most of you, it is officially Spring.  And mud is something you might find on riverbanks and at outdoor rock concerts.  To you, it's an annoyance; something that must be cleaned up.  We, however, celebrate mud.  It's a season.  It has meaning.  Mud Season means sap is running and sugarmakers are making the sweet stuff.  Mud Season means you better get working on your goggle tan, because there's still plenty of snow on the mountains.  Mud Season means seeds are sprouting on the windowsill, and lost keys are appearing in the driveway.  Mud season means parties, like Club Mud and sugar-on-snow suppers and specials at local restaurants.  Sure, Mud Season brings occasional annoyances, like ruts in the road deeper than my dog, and husbands who won't take their shoes off at the door.  But it's part of the fabric of life here in Vermont, even if it means washing that fabric a bit more often.  So here, my friends, is the first-ever Oh to Mud:
 
Oh, Mud, you bring syrup and spring skiing
We take our jackets off in the daytime
We pull the comforter up at night
Oh, Mud, you harbinger of green
You bring us hope as we use more soap
Oh, Mud, we don't have to shovel you
You are sun and fun
Oh, Mud, your time is now.

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