In Praise of Mud

Whoever said that Mud Season in New England goes from this time to that time and then is over definitely never lived here…or at least not near our back field. It was soaked when we arrived about a year ago, and it’s soaked again now. People in California, having to debate the rightness or wrongness of watering their lawns, would be envious. Besides seeing no end in sight to boot-wearing time, we’re getting plenty of opportunity to contemplate the many varieties of muck, sludge, wet dirt, whatever name you prefer. It’s a veritable rainbow of moist earth out there. So how come, at least in our language, we keep giving the stuff that’s really the essence of life a bad rap?

My husband’s new John Deere tractor can do all kinds of wonderful things. It can also, occasionally, make deep ruts in the grass on its way to doing wonderful things. I suppose we could call this “welcome mud.”

The tractor is often put to work around the pond, where Rob has been clearing out brush as well as cattails. He’s discovered a number of springs producing nice clear water (you can see it both coming in and coming out, actually) but of course the

pond itself has a whole border of rich, dark mucky stuff all around it. I can only imagine the variety of creatures, and all of their zillions of moving parts, that make a home there. None of them, I’m sure, cares about prettiness.

And back behind our pond, in the field owned by a thriving farm selling summer vegetables, you can see good old-fashioned dirt, ready with open arms — as much as dirt has open arms– to nourish whatever it receives.

You already know, of course, that the Very First Man was created out of dirt. Well, OK, maybe dust, maybe clay – depends how and where you read it. (If it was dust, I can guarantee it didn’t happen in New Hampshire.) In any case, there must have been some reason that God didn’t choose to work with, say, fine jewels or something. Being God, he/she no doubt could’ve chosen any raw materials he/she wanted. The fact that it was plain old sediment must say something. Frankly, I think it’s a little weird that Eve was supposedly formed from Adam’s rib, and not from the same kind of stuff that he came from, but that’s another topic I guess.

If we grant that the human race owes its existence to the actual earth, then it’s clear as mud why it is that we spend most of our lives having to recognize that we’re all mixed up with good and bad elements wrapped up inextricably together. Purity? We can strive for it, but it sure will be hard to attain. We recognize, more often than not, what it is we want to achieve—- but then, darn it, we stumble or fall short or disappoint in some way. And we just have to keep on going, hoping to do better next time. We ought to reach high, and occasionally can in fact even grab whatever it is we’re reaching for, while remembering that we are, if not exactly groveling upon the ground, then at least still walking upright upon it. No matter how many successes we have, humility will find us eventually.

In E.B. White’s classic (I won’t say children’s book) Charlotte weaves a number of different words into her web. She describes her friend Wilbur as “Some Pig” and “Terrific” and “Radiant” and then, yes, “Humble.” This one may be the most complimentary of all; he’s humble in two ways, really – he lives close to the ground, right in the mud as pigs do, and he’s also not a bit prideful.

In last year’s movie titled, simply, Mud, Matthew McConaughey plays a fugitive living on an island who becomes an intriguing figure to two local boys. He’s escaping the law, and for murder even, but we quickly see him as a sympathetic character—mostly because of the fact that it’s his tremendous love for Juniper that has been the guiding force in his life. His name may, quite literally, be Mud, but we can’t help rooting for the guy.

It’s not surprising that McKinley Morganfield took on the name “Muddy Waters” in the forties, establishing himself as a leader in the world of Chicago Blues. If there’s a more earthy kind of music than this, at least in our country, I’ve never heard of it. Here he is, teamed up with the Rolling Stones at a club concert back in the 80’s. Click here for down and dirty, and smoky too.

I’ll keep this combination of voices swimming (or slogging) around in my head, especially when the truckload of stones arrives. These stones –in all their dry solidity– perhaps will squelch some of the hardy, tall weeds in the murky waters of our pond. I can already see the main truth of the matter clearly, however: you mess too much with Mud, you’re a’goin’ against Nature.