When it’s not quite still winter, and not quite yet summer here in Steamboat Springs, we don’t refer to it as Spring but call it by another name. Mud Season.
Most years, it’s just an affectionate term that we all use as we slop through the melting snow and ensuing mud underneath, trying to be diligent about wiping off our boots before coming inside. Because most years the sun is shining, the birds are singing and you can almost feel the grass pushing with all it’s might to explode up out of it’s dormancy. You just know summer, and our dude ranch season, is about to begin.
However, this year, it doesn’t seem to be such a laughing matter. The birds are still singing, those little optimists. But the sun has hardly been shining. Rain, snow, sleet and various other forms of precipitation keep lingering. And it’s becoming all that anyone talks about these days.
Yesterday, I had to drive over for my final board meeting (we take the summer off as everyone is too busy to meet) of the Colorado Dude Ranch Association. What is normally a picturesque drive, with majestic mountains peaks still covered in snow, but green meadows busting with young grass and baby calves was replaces by a slow slog through a blizzard in four wheel drive.
Those poor little calves out there don’t know any different. But, as soon as spring finally decides to join us, and stay, the valleys are going to explode with vegetation and those little birds are going to have something to sing about for sure. Heck, you might just hear me singing at that point!