Mud

There's an old saying that Eskimos have many names for snow; any Inuit will tell you that's vastly overstated. Still, when one becomes intimately involved with anything, a single name starts to seem insufficient. To me, a purse is a purse, something in which to schlep all my junk around in, but my neice can spot particular designer purses from a block away.
Paradoxically, considering I live in a climate where eight inches of precipitation in a year would be worth celebrating, I've become very intimately involved with mud in the eleven years I've lived on the farm. Now, if you are listening to somebody talk about mud, you can hear exactly what sort of mud is being discussed; it depends on the inflection, pitch, and facial expression (anybody knows that muuuuuuud is a different critter than mud). But in writing, it's not so easy, so I'm proposing a few terms to clear things up, as follows:
Glessip: A thin layer of melted mud on top of still-frozen mud. This is analogous to chocolate pudding on glass. It's difficult to drive on and nearly impossible to walk on. Luckily, traction can be improved with the addition of the tradional kitty litter, twigs, or chicken scratch.
Gluckit: Fully unfrozen, deep mud. This is the stuff that will keep you stuck at home until it either freezes or dries, because nobody's going anywhere in this. It will engulf small cars, front-end loaders, and the occasional school bus. It will also suck boots, and perhaps even socks, off your feet. Napoleon's army knew all about this one. Gluckit makes really fine adobe, particularly if it includes kitty litter, twigs, or chicken scratch.
Sklutch: Can be related to Glessip; it is relagated to dirt roads and may involve lots of water. The driving technique involves somehow getting into third gear and not slowing down, keeping in mind that the ditches bordering the road are always filled with Gluckit, and you're not getting out of that!
Splock: Flying Sklutch. This is what ends up coating the body of a vehicle, including the headlights, windshield, and roof rack. Not related to Commander Spock.
Congunk: Dried Gluckit. As any farmer will tell you, fields cannot be worked in the spring until they dry. The farmers know that a soggy field is just a soggy field; mud only happens as a result of interaction with somebody walking, slogging, or attempting to drive on it or through it. It's actually a physical change in the soil, and once made, it won't turn back into friable soil. Nope, once dried it becomes solid rocks, and you might as well forget about trying to grow anything in it. Congunk is also what ends up on the undercarriage of your car, adding several hundred pounds to its weight, as well as $10 to $20 extra at the car wash.
I'm sure there are several types of mud I'm missing here, so if anyone knows what they are, please fill me in.


At least at the melting of this snow, there are gifts. Crocus! Crocuses! Croci? And suddenly there are little green plants that weren't there Sunday morning before the snow fell. Gifts of spring indeed, freely given.