"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
It seems ironic, since it’s the time of year when marching is most difficult.
On March 7, 2013 at 3:58 pm
Ahh whaledancer, my thought exactly…How can one MARCH in that mess. Looks like it would suck the boots right off your feet.
On March 7, 2013 at 4:07 pm
Ah yes…the muds of March!
On March 7, 2013 at 8:23 pm
Looks like my farm.
On March 8, 2013 at 11:03 am
I didn’t think it could get worse than that but it did… try over a foot of snow on top of the mud. UGH! What a mess 😕 😕
On March 8, 2013 at 11:05 am