First it rained. A lot. The ducks and geese rejoiced and dabbled in the puddles all day. I wore my knee-high boots to wade through the little creek to get to the greenhouse. The dogs seemed disturbed by that. Apparently that upset their sense of order — people don’t belong in the water.
Then it snowed. A lot. Twelve inches is a lot for my corner of the edge of the Ozarks. I got the truck stuck in the driveway three times. UPS and FedEx refused to come up the driveway. Both drivers left my packages at the gate. The geese retreated to the barn. The ducks gathered close for warmth, but only three took advantage of the shelter in their pen. The rest didn’t seem to mind the snow much.
The dogs were belly deep in the snow, even the 80-pound English Shepherd.
Then the melting began. The process lasted days. Now there’s mud, mud, everywhere. The geese don’t mind. The ducks are delighted. I’m not complaining. Mud means moisture, and hopefully the end of the drought cycle.
Life is good.