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Farmer Steve is our guest writer today. He is so afflicted by the mud this year, we thought it would be therapeutic for him to write a little about it. Hold on tight...
The birds have begun to sing their song
Indicating the arrival of spring will not be long
It will arrive with a great thud
But not until after weeks of this thick mud
We close our eyes and pull up our boots
Anxiously awaiting the seedlings green shoots
I cannot wait until the back yard grows some grass
Because right now it is mud up to my ass
We share the same evil plight as the alpaca
Afraid of outdoors and the mud that will attack ya
My broken tractor makes farming hell
Especially when there is mud in every field, glen, and dell
The end of winter is near, the firewood is short
But instead of cutting more this weekend I think Ill shoot the mud for sport.
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