By: Paul S. Cilwa Viewed: 1/23/2021
Occurred: 3/27/2020
Topics/Keywords: #Coronavirus #Maui Page Views: 218
Mudding in the time of coronavirus.

We arrived in Hana's rainiest season, and despite the furious pace at which the grass grows, eventually the rain outruns it and every step one takes, oozes mud.

Keith, having grown up in northern New Mexico, values rain. I, having been brought up by a mother from New Jersey, can't help being repulsed by it despite decades spent in Arizona. I know this is an emotional response and am working to get past it. I can appreciate a warm rain. But endless drizzling at 70F get old. (Even for Keith!)

In early afternoon, during a brief break in the downpour, I hiked up the driveway to get the quad and to see if anyone were onsite. No one was.

Ella, on the other hand, has dreamed her whole life of running with abandon through endless fields of mud. And this is the result: a muddy, tired, but happy pup.

So Keith and I stayed in mostly, he playing videogames on his handheld, me organizing photos and these web pages. Eventually evening came; we cranked up the generator and watched a couple episodes of Smallville, then sat on the porch and observed there might be a break in the weather.

But, whether there is or not, we've discovered our shed is starting to feel like home.