On the way to Colorado Springs today, I said that I wanted to stop in at Mountain Chalet. When I told M. why exactly I wanted to, she laughed for about two minutes straight. She has voiced her views on Crocs before.
But I bought some, because they are the contemporary equivalent of the medieval peasant's hand-carved wooden shoes. They let you walk in the mud, and then you can kick them off at the threshold.
And mud we have. It is raining as I write this. At least six inches have fallen in the past two weeks. That amount might mean gentle showers in some locales, but in the semi-arid Southwest, it's a lot. Hardscrabble Creek is running high and brown--it looks like spring again.
For deep snow and mud duty, I have rubber irrigation boots. And I have some zip-up pac boots, which were made on some weird Chinese last and fit well in the ball of the foot are but are huge and sloppy in the heels, even with heel inserts.
Now with les sabots Croc. I am ready for a rainy summer dog walk.