“Mud Season” is officially upon us. In fact, it’s raining right now as I type. Mud Season basically begins with the spring thaw, and ends once the grass & trees begin to bud and use up the excess moisture in the ground.
When we first moved in to Beekman 1802 Farm in 2007 it was the height of Mud Season. So while it might not be the favorite time of year for most of the locals, it will always hold a special place in our hearts. It’s kinda ugly…but it’s
Take a walk with us around the farm today…but be sure to grab your umbrella…
Önder will guard us while we take our walk.
Heavy clouds are the hallmark of Mud Season.
These drifts on the way up to Wedding Hill are always the deepest spot on the farm. The wind often blows drifts over 12 feet deep.
Nature always presents us with interesting puzzles on our walks. This worm was curled on top of a snow drift. Did a bird drop it?
The clouds obscure the tops of the nearby hills.
While the landscape seems plain brown and grey from a distance, up close there are many colors. You just have to look a little more closely.
Some small puffball mushrooms from last autumn.
The apple trees have the fuzzy beginnings of buds. Let’s hope we don’t have any more deep freezes.
With the snowmelt and rain, the pond is always at its fullest this time of year. Wish it would stay this way.
Clouds to the east. Clouds to the west. Clouds everywhere.
The heaving of frozen ground each winter always unearths a few surprises. This piece of china was glinting in the mud near the crypt.
Daffodils to come!
Lots of tennis balls revealed after the snow melts.
A chipmunk lives under this well cover, as evidenced by a winter’s worth of acorn shell litter.
The sky is falling, the sky is falling…
Mud season is troublesome for farmers. Wet conditions in the barn can lead to diseases in the animals.
And it’s hard to clean out the barn when the tractor keeps getting stuck.
Freezing soil expands, so every spring we need to repair at least a half dozen of the raised beds.
Can you spot the garlic coming up in this bed?
Shall we head into the barn? Watch your step.
The babies are resting, listening to the rain drops on the tin barn roof.
…but not too rushed. They hate getting their feet wet.
Don’t blog my spotlight!
I’m a star!
Önder’s ready to head back inside to the fire.