The Miracle of Mud

March 13, 2025

One early spring Saturday when my daughters were young, they decided to plant a garden. They had no plan, just enthusiasm, and out they went to dig. They came in an hour later covered in mud, talking so fast that I wasn't even able to comment on what they'd just tracked though the house. They brought me outside and pointed at a rough rectangle of churned-up earth, and I realized it was in the part of the yard that had been taken over by invasive Japanese knotwood some years before. I doubted anything else could grow there, but knew nothing would flatten their excitement faster than predicting failure. So we headed to the big orange box store down the hill, read the backs of the seed packets to see what might be hardiest, and picked pumpkins. Back at home, the girls pushed the seeds between the tangled knotweed roots in the dirt and promptly forgot about them. By fall, against the odds, three vines had survived, yielding three bright orange pumpkins.

Spring is the season of chaos. Mud is the price of growth. As adults, we prefer order, clean floors, and predictable outcomes, but children don’t develop that way. They learn by doing, by getting their hands dirty, by experimenting. When parents resist the mess—whether it’s a dirt-covered child, a failed science experiment, or a half-baked creative project—we risk shutting down the very process that helps them transform into what they're about to become.

True, not every messy spring leads to an autumn harvest. But the willingness to embrace chaos, to let kids dig in—literally and figuratively—creates an environment where discovery can flourish. The job of a parent isn’t to prevent disorder; it’s to recognize that these moments are worth embracing. Between the mud and tangled roots, something beautiful might be sprouting.

—Deb