We've entered into the "tween" phase of spring. There's still enough snow left on the ground, but everyday it recedes more and more from the edges of the lawn, from the street and curb. At the stable, that means only one thing: Mud. Deep, wet mud that squelches under your feet and attempts to eat your boots with every step. The horses, for the most part, don't mind it. For one, they can get dirty. A favorite passtime, not unlike how dogs love to roll in whatever smells foulest for their two-leggers.
It's around this time of the year, when the air is warming but still chilly, when the snow fades but never melts completely, when the whole world feels like a giant puddle of mud, that it seems nothing green could ever grow from it. It's a silly feeling considering there are already hints of life stirring from under the snow crystals over the flowerbeds.
So, here's to that forth-coming first shoot, the first glimmer of green in an otherwise monotone world, the first bud journeying into light.
