You people with your sidewalks and your manicured lawns – I envy you right now. We moved onto raw land on purpose but I didn’t anticipate having to wear sloggers just to get to the car. And no, that isn’t our pig in the featured photo. We don’t have a place for a pig yet.
On second thought, we do.
Our property remains absent of any real improvements to date (although the upcoming year should finally see some). Our easement was graveled sometime in the distant past but that is the only thing human hands have touched for the seventy years before we happened along.
Imagine plopping down somewhere in the woods to live. The walkways you create trample the grass down leaving only dirt, then mud, when it rains. Everywhere you drive, the same. Unless preventive measures are taken in the form of concrete, gravel and grass – mud is what happens.
The walk from the RV to the car is a study in zigzagging between patches of snow, marsh, and the boards we put down to prevent the loss of footwear. We meet in the war room to strategize before navigating the easement to the main road. The Long Long Long Driveway
We’d never leave the place without four-wheel drive capabilities and the routes we walk are currently a morass of standing water interspersed with deep footprints. It’s almost spring and water from the melting snow is trapped on the surface by an underlayer of permafrost. It has nowhere to go and mixes with the trampled or driven-upon topsoil to create a real mess.
Last year we discovered that if we hammered holes through the icy layer in the most badly affected areas the water would drain. Where that doesn’t work we cover the goo with boards and fill it in with rocks. The place looks classy.
With improvements planned, this will hopefully be our last year of The Mud Season.
In the meantime, I put on my rain boots no matter the outfit. At least I fit in here in rural America.