More Dogs on Main |

More Dogs on Main

Spring is having a hard time of it this year. It’s been cold, wet, and muddy for far too long. My house suffers a little bit from the Daly Avenue syndrome the canyon narrows, the angle changes, and the end result is that the sun doesn’t hit quite as directly as it does in other areas at the same altitude. The grass is up to a green fuzz, but hardly real grass. Even a mile or so down the road, where the valley opens up, I’ve noticed a couple of people have actually mowed their lawns. At my house, it would be hard to cut any grass with a razor. Just yesterday, the aspen trees in my yard budded out enough that there is a hint of green on the ends of the branches. There isn’t a leaf half the size of a dime anywhere yet, but it will come.

There are tulips in Kamas. Fruit trees are blossoming in Coalville. Heber is a rich spring green. And Salt Lake is just plain gorgeous this time of year. Salt Lake puts up with that dismal smog cloud all winter, and is uncomfortably hot by July. But you can’t beat Salt Lake in May. We should be so lucky. It’s supposed to snow again this weekend.

I got out for a quick bike ride last week on one of the few warm, sunny days. It felt good, and I would like to have ridden longer. There’s a certain relief with the seasonal transition when everything seems to work properly. I’m a firm believer in the theory that sports gear will heal itself over the off-season. When my bike went into the deep recesses of the garage last fall, there were a couple of things that were driving me nuts and needed to be adjusted or replaced. The plan was to get to them over the winter. Instead, a miracle happened, and whatever the problems were, they are gone.

It’s not just the bike. the end of the ski season, one knee was complaining a little. I didn’t know what the first bike ride would do to it. It felt fine, or at least didn’t make any more noise than it did skiing. It actually felt pretty good. The conversion from skiing to biking wakes up a different set of muscles. I always worry that I’ve completely lost my wind over the winter, but even that seemed to be pretty solid.

The wet weather has me way behind on work on the ranch. I hired some guys from the ski resorts to help with the fencing. W got a lot done and had a good time doing it. Some of it was pretty bad, and I ended up spending more time on a couple of places than planned, and ran out of money before running out of fence. I think that’s the universal law of farming. I wouldn’t know what to do if I ever got caught up. While the fencing is ok, the field work is way behind. It’s too muddy to get out there with equipment most of the time. One of these days we’ll wake up and it will be 80 degrees and dry as a bone. I’ll wish I could turn the irrigation on, but won’t be able to unless I get caught up on the ditch cleaning and get the main canal ready to go. There were still huge snow drifts blocking the canal last weekend, I need just a few warm, dry days to get it all ready.

Summer will eventually come, even if we skip over spring.

It’s very quiet around town this time of year. Anybody who can has escaped, and run away for a month in Florida or a weekend in Zion. For those of us left behind to deal with the mud and snow in late May, the mood is a little prickly. You can only hide under the covers for so long before you have to go out and face a snowy May. The frustration with the weather manifests itself in strange and unfair ways. It certainly isn’t the fault of the checker at the grocery store that the dogs bring in about a ton of dirt every day. The UPS guy thought he was doing me a big favor driving a heavy package right to the house, instead of leaving it out at the usual spot on the paved road. He didn’t mean to leave ruts in the road that are swallowing up the Volkswagen. Have a nice day and all that.

If, by some misfortune, we had some terrible crime spree erupt on Main Street, the defense would be that it was May in Park City, and the jury would nod knowingly and vote to acquit.

Tom Clyde served as Park City attorney in the 1980s and is the author of "More Dogs On Main Street." He has been a columnist at The Park Record for more than 20 years.

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