January Mud

Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac opens with an essay titled “January”:

January Thaw
Each year, after the midwinter blizzards, there comes a night of thaw when the tinkle of dripping water is heard in the land.

It’s a beautiful essay describing a day of reprieve amid winter’s torment.  I re-read it at the beginning of this month in anticipation of winter–finally winter!–around these Middle Lands.  No such luck.  We are stuck in Janaury mud.  And ice.  And, if you live on a homestead with a lot of animals, poo.  Such poo!  My Northwoods heart can’t take much more of this.  I snapped all these photos as I was doing chores in the afternoon yesterday.

I kept hearing Lee Greenwood’s Tennessee Christmas in my head as I slopped through slop.  And a bunch of other sappy Christmas classics. I’ve obviously got a case of snow-withdrawl.

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Come on weatherman,

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Give us a forecast snowy white.
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Can’t you hear the prayers
Of every childlike heart tonight?

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Rockies are calling,
Denver snow falling,
Somebody said it’s four feet deep.

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The song ends with some insanity about not really needing a lot of snow, only needing love, blahblahblah…I really was only hearing the first few lines in my head.
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My ski trail is melting!
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A few flakes were attempting to pass from the heavens to me, but it was slim pickins’. We could really use some snow.

I’ve truly had enough January mud.
I’ll pass on this epic thaw & take a blizzard to go, thank you.

A tender Tennessee Christmas
Is the only Christmas for me.

P.S.  I apologize if you, too, are now humming Lee Greenwood songs.