Monday, March 08, 2010


"There are four seasons in Mohawk," wrote Richard Russo. "Fourth of July, Mohawk Fair, Eat the Bird, and Winter." Now, we're not as far north as Mohawk, but we're not that far south either. Where we live, spring is a short season. And it is preceded by the fifth season that we have upstate - Mud Season.

It is now mud season. It is six to eight weeks of melting snow, rain, soaked earth, and burgeoning bogs of water, dead grass, and lots of mud. In the hill behind our house in March and April we can make an artesian at the bottom of one of the hills behind out house. Stick a pipe in the ground, or even gouge the hill with the end of a shovel, and water will spout. Water and dirt mix in copious amounts.

It makes getting around difficult, especially when we're trying to move boxes of empty bottles and filled cases of wine. Back and forth, the muddy earth is treacherous. People slip and fall. And in the vineyard, the mud cakes your boots while you wrestle with the twisted vines.

It s everywhere. Inescapable and damnable. A fact of life.


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