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A Good Week for MudFebruary 13, 2009 It took day after above-freezing day, including a few where the temp got into the fifties believe it or not, but the ice is finally, finally, gone. (OK, so I did see a short stretch of it on a well-shaded trail on the way to Sepiessa Point earlier this week, but it was clearly worn out and dwindling.) My strides have lengthened, the dirt smells like dirt; sun comes in the skylights earlier and there's still light in the sky at 5:30. Last weekend I rode for the first time since Christmas Day, twice, both Saturday and Sunday. Allie was a pistol -- she couldn't bend much through the middle, mainly because she looks like she's pregnant with twins but also because my muscles have forgotten how to ask -- but wow, did it feel good to be back in the saddle again. In the 10 years since I got back into horses, this is the first that I haven't been able to ride straight through the winter. Sure, we always lose a few days to cold or snow or ice, but I've never lost six whole weeks. Last weekend the footing was strange: a thin layer of thaw over frozen ground. Today the ground felt more solid, less slippery. On the shadier dirt roads the mud wants to suck your boots off. Wheel ruts have chilled in place; some of them are deep enough to point your vehicle toward the nearest tree. No matter: I'll take mud over ice any day. If mud season lasts through May, so be it. It's been a pretty good week for my Mud too. Tuesday was my first house reading: an ice cream social at Cynthia Riggs's Cleaveland House, which dates to the mid-18th century and is a perfect place for a party. This one featured two jazz musicians, Mark whose last name I don't know on keyboards and Ed Rogers on trumpet. Jonathan Revere played videocamera and the repartee among the three was a hoot. I read the "Showing at Makonikey" segment from The Mud of the Place to a very attentive audience of about 15. The raspberry sauce was spectacular. Last night I read and talked at the Oak Bluffs library. There were about a dozen in the audience, about par for the course; half of them I didn't know, a good sign. Danguole Budris, library director, was a gracious host and introducer. I read the first two scenes from chapter 16 -- Wayne (a villain) shows up at the high school as his son Kevin and friend are heading into Vineyard Haven for their after-school jobs, then, after Kevin rebuffs his attempt at reconciliation, Wayne heads over to Dr. Turner's office to stir up trouble. I'd never read them before; they worked really well. After some good discussion, I headed over to Offshore Ale, where some friends and former colleagues were lingering after supper. I had a beer with them and went home happy about the whole evening. This afternoon someone told me that he'd heard mention of me, Mud, and house readings on WMVY-FM, the island's commercial radio station. That was cool. Since that weird non-event at the West Tisbury library I've been feeling fragmented and discouraged. Now it seems that some of the PR and review copies and feelers I've been putting out are actually taking root here and there. Ice is hostile to growing things. Mud is more friendly.
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