The Tank

When Nathan and I were bantering in the office and the name of this blog (and probably future book) came out, I immediately had my image of mud between my toes...and thought I would share as the first post. The picture to the left is of the tank (Texas slang for pond) just below the house I grew up in on a cattle farm in central Texas. This was the setting of many a childhood memory...a lot of which involved physical mud.

We didn't have a swimming pool so when we wanted to cool off in the summer, the tank was one of the best options. You could do a shallow dive off the dock...or simply wade in off the shore. I usually opted for the diving because it seemed more adventurous...and if you waded in, you had to make it through all the mud! This wasn't just your run of the mill mud---this was clay mud with air pockets, cow crap, algae, you get the idea. Of course we would indoctrinate new visitors to the farm by having them wade into the mud/water just to see their expression. I still don't know how we kept friends! :) As we aged, we found ourselves riding bikes off the dock into the water (and pulling the bikes out of the mud), jousting on canoes (and being covered with mud if you fell in), or just fishing (and losing many a flip flop in the mud on the shoreline).

I only get home to the farm once or twice a year and one of the first things I always find myself doing is walking down to the tank to sit on the dock. It is definitely a sign of being home for me. I remember my childhood memories...and lay out in the sun or do a little stargazing. Mud between my toes....good times!

What mud between your toes stories do you have? Give us the scoop!