Edition: U.S. / Global  Mud-Luscious, Puddle-Wonderful
Published: March 24, 1991  Early spring in the city means
forsythia blooming in the park, crocuses by the stoop, fresh
tulips at the Korean grocery. In the country, it means mud.  No
one likes mud season. By late March, New England inns are
closing up for lack of business, and country lanes turn to
swales of deep ruts that challenge four-wheel drive even more
than last month's snow. Visitors who try out a hiking trail bog
down and trudge back, dispirited, in heavier boots.  No, no one
likes mud season -- so long as they are well over the age of 10.
But for a young city boy who frequents a farm in Columbia County
on weekends, there may be no better time of the year. He and a
friend have discovered the low corner of a cow pasture where
rainwater and snowmelt collect under a warming sun.  When the
cows move off, the boys wander in. They feel the ooze clutch at
the soles of their sneakers; they watch intently as their laces
sink from view. Then, suddenly, th