In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt. ~Margaret Atwood, Canadian poet, novelist, activist, and teacher
Maybe Ms. Atwood was onto something, but I’ll wager she drew the line between the scent of “dirt” and that of “mud.”
Many moons ago, we applied weed-and-feed to our lawn in an effort to drive out the weeds and promote the growth of lush, green grass.
It worked, and our yard was a thing of beauty.
But the past decade or so, we’ve had a lawn crew do the mowing, Spring and Fall cleanup, leaf-mulching, and so forth, and to my knowledge, they haven’t used any weed or feed treatments.
Meaning, our yard struggles to look one iota better than anybody else’s. In fact, it struggles period.
Perhaps having a little Monkey might be one reason for its sad state, but in his defense, even the front yard — where he never ventures by himself — looks pretty shabby.
All it takes is a little rain, and we’ve had way more than our share lately, to turn portions of the yard into muddy messes.
Normally, I wouldn’t care. I don’t aspire to Yard of the Month recognition, and it’s not like I feel a need to wander across the grass on a daily basis.
What bothers me is having a long-haired dog who MUST patrol the perimeter every time he goes outside. Who MUST wade through all the mud and then race inside assuming he can track that mud through the house.
I’ve got a rug and towel beside the door, and Monk has been trained to endure feet-wiping in inclement weather.
He doesn’t particularly like it, not that I care. It’s way harder for me to get on my hands and knees to clean the floor than it is to towel off his four paws.
I thought this would be a challenge during winter’s snows, but Spring rains are lots worse. Snow melts; mud oozes. And since I don’t want to retrain Monkey to use a pee-pad, he has to go outside.
So we’ll soldier on. Eventually, the rains will stop, and the sun will return.
Dirt is bound to clean up easier than mud, too. Right?