This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a mud puddle. Courtesy of Sir Hurricane Isaak.
Isn’t she lovely?
Our fields are full of them.
Isaak may have officially de-droughted us.
While gazing at the muddy fields during a run, I was brought back to my childhood days. I was very much a tomboy, loving to play outside, and never minding a little dirt. A favorite activity of mine was to mold mud into clay pots and set them out in the sun to “bake”. When they dried out, I would excitedly pick them up to show Mom. They would crumble to pieces in my hands, of course, but I was never discouraged. I would just make more. I remember using spoons from our kitchen drawer as shovels. I must have bent a fair amount of them, but if it bothered my mom, I never knew.
It was the scent of the mud, the earthy, wormy smell of it, that brought me back in time. A time when I had no stress. A time when I didn’t mind dirt under my nails. A time when I wasn’t concerned with how the mud might dirty the house or ruin my clothes. A time when perfection was the least of my worries, and being self-involved, as young kids often are, kept me from worrying about what others thought.
I’ve mentioned before that work and stress has taken the fun out of a lot of activities I used to enjoy. I don’t want to go back in time, necessarily, but I do want to experience some stress free, childhood fun again.
I’m hoping that my upcoming vacation will allow for that. I’m hoping I’ll be able to leave behind my need for perfection, my need for hard work, my need to please everyone.
I’m taking me away, in the hopes of finding me back.
Wouldn’t it be ironic if I found me in a mud puddle.