About a week ago, early in the day and in the rain, I got on the tractor and headed over to the machine shed, and though I traversed a relatively flat area, the soil and shale were so saturated with water that it was like freshly cooked pudding pouring through the pasture and horse paddock. Hours later, the sun started setting. I realized I had spent my entire afternoon tending a mudslide. Hours of it. Mud had moved and settled in places it really wasn’t supposed to be. With the tractor, I tried to move it along the banks of the run, to serve later as barriers to flooding, but it lay in formless heaps. Mud was everywhere.
