The sun is shining.
The snow is melting.
The birds are back.
And my driveway now looks like something Monster Jam should be ticketing.
You wait all winter for spring. You endure subzero wind chills, frozen nostrils, and scraping ice off your windshield with something that may or may not be an old credit card. You dream of warmth. You fantasize about green grass.
And then it finally happens.
The snow starts melting.
And that’s when you remember…
Oh right.
Mud season.
For those of you blessed with paved driveways, this is where you quietly sip your coffee and judge the rest of us. But for those of us with non-paved driveways, spring isn’t a season.
It’s an obstacle course.
Yesterday I attempted to back out of my driveway and briefly considered calling a spotter. I’m pretty sure I saw tire tracks from something that required flotation tires. There are ruts deep enough to hide small wildlife. If someone laid down a starting line, we could host a regional monster truck qualifier.
Grave Digger would struggle.
And yet… I’m still happy.
Because the sun is out.
It’s that weird Michigan contradiction. We will absolutely complain about the mud while simultaneously standing outside in it like it’s a tropical vacation.
“Yes, my boots are sinking.”
“But do you feel that? That’s vitamin D.”
Spring here is never elegant. It doesn’t arrive gently with blossoms and butterflies. It barges in, melts everything at once, exposes six months of yard debris, and turns gravel into pudding.
You take the good with the bad.
The snowbanks shrink.
The air doesn’t hurt your face anymore.
You can leave the house without dressing like an Arctic expedition member.
Sure, you might lose a shoe to the driveway on the way to the mailbox. That’s just part of the charm.
We’ll get through mud season like we get through everything else: with sarcasm, optimism, and a healthy respect for rubber boots.
Because in a few weeks, the grass will turn green. The trees will bud. The driveway will firm up. And we’ll forget all about how we nearly needed a tow truck to get to work in March.
Until next year.
So here’s to spring in Michigan — slightly messy, deeply unpredictable, and absolutely worth it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see if my trash can made it to the road… or if it’s still stuck in the bog.
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