muddy feet

Since the wind is strong and the temperature was in the low fifties earlies, and because the rain hath raineth down the previous 7 days resulting in damp, I layered up in my bright striped cardigan over my longsleeve hooded t-shirt and soft fleece sweatshirt. I put on my Maggie's Wool socks inside my muck boots, popped on my billed jersey cap and headed out to mow the much grown grass (note 7 days of rain during warming spring).  The sunny poked through the thinning cloud cover, aiding to my quick warming up while pushing the reel mower over tall grass. Very soon I took of the wooly cardigan and deposited it on the porch steps.  A few minutes after that, off came the sweatshirt, followed promptly by a removal of wool socks from inside muck boots. I soon also flung the hat to the accumulating pile of unworn layers.
After finishing the side yard, I headed to the sloped front yard.  By now I was well and truly warmed up from the effort of cutting the grass, the sun was shining steadily, and the brisk wind felt refreshing.
I plopped my muck boots on the concrete front porch and continued to cut the grass while barefoot.
What a luxuriant pleasure! The soft grass, the cushioned soil, and the coolness of moist spring ground.
Bliss.

When I finished the yard, I returned the reel mower to the shed, then harvested some mature radishes, thinned the rapidly growing turnips, and weeded the garden plot while the soil is soft.
"Oh frabjous day; Callou, callay, [she] chortled in [her] joy!"