Zazen

My vagabond mind dithers over dalliance with shine and neglect. “Zazen” is published by Sharpestthought in Intermittently thoughtful.

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Mud Season

Anderson Pond

Signs have gone up on roads around here posting temporary six-ton weight limits for vehicular traffic. It is not because the bridges have suddenly become winter weary; it is to keep travelers from getting mired in mud on the many dirt roads that lace the back country. Locals say there has been an unusual amount of thawing and refreezing this winter. On unpaved roads, when the surface thaws and the subsurface stays frozen, the water at the surface has nowhere to go, so it turns the track to mud. The heaviest vehicles sink in right up to their undercarriages or to the frozen substrate, whichever comes first.

We know in life there is difficulty in transitions that require us to be pulled from the muck by hook or crook, but there is also a bit of fun to be found if you look for it. When the thermometer bounces around like a pogo stick in midwinter, tire-hungry mud isn’t the only arresting effect that confronts us. There are times when the horizon line separating sun, clouds, snow, and the vacillating state of ponds and lakes — between opaque freeze and limpid reflection — could be inverted to present a nearly identical scene. It’s like a funhouse of mirrors, though much bigger in scale.

And while your eyes are playing tricks on you, your ears can get into the act as well. With the freeze and thaw, the dynamics of expanding and contracting lake ice can produce otherworldly sounds. As the ice moves, it cracks, producing sound waves that move simultaneously through the ice, the water below, and the atmosphere above. It can be a rumble. It can be a thunderclap. Ice suspended on water is a tympanum, and if it has melted the snow cover and slab to a thin membrane, you can play it with a skipping stone. The skittering echoes of pings and chirps sound a bit like a sci-fi laser shootout.

Mud season isn’t something the New Hampshire Division of Travel and Tourism talks about. But it is coming, and it has its own peculiar attractions. Just be sure you’re out of here before black fly season, which, from what I’m told, has no redeeming qualities.

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