|Bean boots in their native habitat: mud.|
|Yum! And yes, those are chickens and manure in the background.|
|Back in the day ...|
|Did I mention the mud?|
Meanwhile, in Vermont, they were up to the same shenanigans yesterday. My writer friend/classmate Hugh Coyle was out and about in the mud and syrup madness as well, and shared photos ... and one of his poems ... on Facebook. I love it, and share it here with you:
shake off last night’s ice to lift
branches toward struggling sun.
Slick bark glistens along the trunks,
the scars of past sap harvests
welted up near this season’s taps.
checks his levels and lines. Next week,
perhaps, this cold snap will break. He slings
one more steel bucket onto a spike,
impatient for winter’s slow apology