Mud and ice.

Boy, the weather changed fast.

After weeks of very cold temperatures and snow that refused to go anywhere, we hit a record high on Friday. Counting windchill, it was more than a 70 degree swing in three days. Parts of the state, like Syracuse, hit records for the date -- in their case, 62 degrees. It certainly felt like a record high here, but it wasn't like you could run outside and sunbathe -- it rained like crazy all damn day.

I think I spent the bulk of the day drying off dogs. My wife was at it with the good ol' Swiffer SteamBoost, but the mud and water splashed in the hall every time some puppy needed to visit the great outdoors. The snow was melting at the fastest pace I have ever seen. This was tragic for the big dog, Tralfaz, my fuzzy chum who, if forced to choose between me and snow, might very well pick snow. Our last outing Friday night we visited his domain, the snow fort at the end of the driveway created by our plow guy. It had been reduced to a single manhole-size splotch of snow. Tralfaz laid on it, covering it almost entirely, rolled on it, tried to bury his face in it as he does with snow. It was the saddest thing I have seen in a long time. By Saturday even that was gone.

Saturday morning I took baby dog Nipper (90+ pounds of fun & muscle) out to the backyard for his early morning romp, and I had to cut it short. The yard had gotten so muddy it was sucking the shoes right off my feet. No kidding; and I was wearing a pair of rubber moc boots Mrs. Claus bought me for Christmas, or I probably would have had mud inside my socks. It made me think of this meme:

No kidding; thanks to TV we kind of thought quicksand could pop up anywhere -- in the woods, by a pond, in the supermarket parking lot, in aisle 5, you name it.

It also brought back a memory of the time in my youth when I drove three of my friends in my dad's economy car to play toss the ol' football around in the park. We got in a pickup touch football game with some other guys. After a while we discovered that, not only had the park been subject to at least a week of soaking rain, but the rain had also caused the sewers to back up, resulting in that odd odor that got stronger as the game progressed. I don't remember if we won, but I do remember being in that small car with three other big, filthy, sweaty guys, smelling of sewer. I had to clean out the car and then hose myself off before I could even get in the house. It was a little more than 50 degrees, not the kind of weather you want to be running cold water on yourself off the backyard hose in your underwear. I'm not sure my mother didn't toss my jeans directly in a Hefty bag on the curb.

So when I told Nipper it was time to go in, it was time to go in.

Later on Saturday the rain cleared off, the wind picked up, and the temperature dropped like a stone. It fell below freezing by eight in the morning; it was 19 by six p.m. Fortunately there was not a lot of water on the streets to freeze, but the yard, such a sodden mess, became icy enough to send out young Wayne Gretzky to practice hockey. This morning when I took out the boys it was 9. Glad I had my long thermal underpants on.

It's been such an odd couple of days that it seems to have shut up the climate deniers and the climate cultists all at the same time. No matter where you are on such things, if it makes for a peaceful and quiet Sunday, it is a good thing.