lost and found

Yesterday the first treasure of spring was uncovered. The fifty degree temperatures and ample sunshine unearthed a tennis ball. Gone but not forgotten since the December snows rolled in and didn't stop until, well likely May.
Spring in Vermont with a golden retriever is a tango. You have got to be quick and on your toes or else you soon find a muddy crime scene turning circles around your house. Or tiny apartment. But tiny apartments can get muddy too. And so here we are. Brown footprints sink so deep into the floors I abolish the thought of mopping altogether. What would be the point?
The backyard is a soupy mess of melting snow and thawing grass. A river, that was not there yesterday morning, blazes a chocolate stream from under the pine tree. His favorite place to sniff.
But spring with a goldie also means longer outside runs followed by hours and lollygagging in the sunny patch by the door. Watching the birds peck at the softening ground. Waiting for the horse to return to the field and the surefire signs that we are hearty Vermonters now. And we have made it through.
Mud season and all.