Thinking About Spring

Okay, I am still in my cast and still having to sit more than I am used to, so I have been spending wayyyy more time on the computer than I ever have. Most of the blogs that I visit are talking alot about spring, which I can understand because we have had such a long cold, snowy winter this year, or at least I think so. So, along with me going through alot of older photos and trying very hard not to become overwhelmed with the amount of them, I have been thinking of growing up on the farm in the 50's and 60's in the spring. I grew up in southern Sask. and we had black gumbo dirt there. What that means is, when you walked across the yard you were about 6 inches taller by the time you reached your destination!!! The mud just stuck to your boots and never fell off until you scraped it off!! When you drove a vehicle, the mud clung tenaciously to the tires until the wheelwells were clogged and you had to get out and dig some of the mud out so you could continue on your way!! Anyway, where I was going with this is, I remember, very clearly, playing with my older brother outside in the spring in the mud, of course. Mom had told us not to play behind the house because that is where the "grey water" from the house drained out (we didn't have indoor plumbing yet, that treat was yet to come). So along with the grey water was the normal spring runoff in the yard and everything was positioned to sort of drain into that same area thus leaving the rest of the yard alittle dryer (in theory anyway). so off we went to play, in the area we weren't supposed to play in of course!!!! I was traipsing along after my brother and of course got stuck in the mud and water and he being the chivralous sort, offered me his hand to pull me out, and guess what????? I came out but my boots stayed in, firmly rooted in the mud!!!! So now we knew we were in trouble, not only were we where we were NOT supposed to be but now I am covered in mud and soaked and cold and we had to face mom. My dad was outside and must have heard me crying because he came to the rescue, laughed himself silly and carried me into the house. Mom was mad, Wayne was gone who knows where, he wasn't staying around to be punished and dad was laughing. I don't really remember what Wayne had to do but I had to wash out my socks and pants myself and I wasn't really all that old so it was abit of a challenge to scrub them on the old washboard and tub. I did not go near that area again that I can remember. My challenge to you is to tell a story about growing up and springtime on your blogs and leave me a comment so I can read about it. Thanks for looking.