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May the sidewalk rise to meet you
Watch out for the wind blowin on your back
And may the sun come out for a little encouragement, please….

These silly verses were part of my thought as two preschool teachers and I coaxed, slid and splashed our way over the sidewalk, avoided huge puddles, almost, and managed to guide ten little snow suited preschoolers to the playground across the street. Up ahead, we could see very dismally, that the destination was worse than the sidewalk. It was a mine field of big sloppy mud puddles and connecting floes of thin slippery slush.

To the children, it was a vast treasure field of brown, icy splashes and holes to dig in with sticks. Fun. All children, once in that zone, lost all ability to hear adults telling them to stay out of the puddles. Two perspectives … kids saw wet and free, teachers saw hallways full of muddy soaked snowsuits and wet socks…yuck.

Vermont people call this almost season, Sugar snow … and/or mud season. It is the slide time between fluffy winter and the hope of spring. When pondering it, this year, I realized that new beginnings, like a new season, take time and the agony of sameness, the questions from impatience, and the occasional peeks of warm sunshine to encourage us on. Mud season has it’s important place in time. These “throes” lead to a much appreciated green and lovely season coming … soon. It is not so bad … I need to just hang my yucky wet socks up to dry, and sit by the warm stove to hear a good story, like the children did.

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