This is not the first time you've heard me complain about mud. It is my persistent, wheedling, wear-me-down, energy-sapping adversary. Mud makes everyone on the farm grumpy. Mud gets the chickens' feet dirty, which makes the eggs muddy. Ew. The donkeys roll in the mud - it helps keep the flies away, but then as it dries, the donks rub on things to scratch it off. The alpacas walk around boggy places in their pen and generally act like me - like we're swimming in molasses. Everybody moves in slow motion...
I really need to conquer this.
Mud happens mainly in the spring and fall, so there are whole seasons where I don't have to deal with it. And in the summer, we're more likely to complain about the lack of rain, than the overabundance of it. And what farmer in her right mind complains about rain? No rain, no pasture. No rain, no vegetables. No rain, no beautiful wildflowers. No rain, big water bills. So I know rain is a valuable thing-- a gift from God. And I'm so grateful for the fact that, well, the creek didn't flood. That's a good thing.
But the mud....
I keep telling myself that mud is just a sign that I need to make changes in the materials on the ground around here. I need gravel in the driveway, more grass in the bare spots in the pasture, and maybe some mulch along my most traveled walkways. That would all help. Nothing that some time, money and energy wouldn't solve.
If you could help me locate a large load of those three things, at a wholesale price, I'd appreciate it.