Country dwelling...

 It's the romantic idea of a homestead with livestock and a big garden and split rail fences with primroses and delphiniums cascading over the side of it.

It's a vision of lemonade on a sprawling veranda, while the smell of fresh sweet hay wafts by on a summer breeze.

It's the thought of charming, dancing lambs, and children playing outside dawn to dusk with no fences, no boundaries, no rules.

All of this exists, yes it does.

But wait.

There is more. And this is what you don't always see or hear about.

The car that never comes clean. I'm talking no point even washing it because it's going to look like this again within two minutes of driving down country lanes. Everytime I drive to the city I park somewhere out of the way, get out and pretend it's not mine. 

And that's on dry days! Our springtime is even more fun.. Yes, lambs are skipping, yes flowers are breaking through dirt, yes spirits are high. We all love spring. But around here it comes with muck, muck and more muck.

Lagoons of mud. Fields that are submerged. Flooded basements and ankle deep ruts of squelchy ooze on the driveway.

Which means the mudroom (aptly named) looks mostly like this. And like the car, there is no point cleaning it.

At least the mudroom gets most of the mud off. Except for the dog, who still hasn't learned to wipe her paws.

And there you have it. The highs and lows of country dwelling.

PS. I am writing this with the house lamb - who is still living in a box beside the fire to the huge chagrin of the cats and the dog - nibbling my toes. Dessert after eating a postcard earlier tonight. He's telling me that it's time for him to be relocated to the barn yard. Another benefit of spring...