If you grew up in the upcountry about 30 years ago or more, you too may have suffered the indignity of being forced to wear rubber overshoes to school this time of year.
Forcing them on, rubber overshoes resisted. Peeling them off, rubber overshoes fought to stay on. And in between, how an inch of mud suctioned them off so easily — on the next step, plunging the shoe they were supposed to save deep into the muck anyway — is one of childhood’s great frustrations. (But it was worse for Napoleon. See Page 32.)
Yet, for every mud season, spring follows. Days lengthen. Ice melts. Maple sap flows. Spirits lift. We venture outside, imbued with the possibilities of a reawakening.
We head to buy maple syrup (see our list of sugarhouses on Page 14). We think of learning a brand new activity (and maybe that will be fly fishing on Page 37). We think of bringing friends and family together around a nice meal to celebrate spring (like grilled butterflied leg of lamb with fresh mint chimichurri sauce on Page 24). We trade one sense of cabin fever for another, perhaps a cozy log home in the woods (one starting at $159,000 on Page 12). And maybe some of us will move from the city to the country (so read how Ellen Stimson did that on Page 30).
This season’s transition means winter’s boots get pushed deeper into the closet. Mercifully, it’ll soon be time to put away those rubber overshoes too.
Kevin Moran, Editor
kmoran@berkshireeagle.com
