How many times do I have to find where I stashed it and then drag out my winter attire again? This up-and-down, in-and-out spring weather has gotten me flabbergasted.

Two weeks ago, the breeze was from the south and the snow was gone. I could feel the dandelions squirming around in the grass, ready to sprout. In the back closet I traded my Carhartts, Sorrels, and bomber hat for a hooded sweatshirt, rubber boots, and baseball cap.

I unplugged the water tank heater, neatly packing it away in the box that says “winter,” and rolled the hose out to the outside hydrant. The extension cords for the vehicles were nicely wrapped up and hung on the treadmill that’s conveniently located in the corner of the garage. The “Frosty the Snowman” yard ornament was tossed; he had had a very bad winter.

Then—poof!—a foot of snow and record-setting low temperatures. The water tank heater was unpacked and sat nicely on top of the ice, melting a cool little circle underneath. I wore my Carhart coat over the hooded sweatshirt, and the frozen hose broke in half when I tried to roll it up, but I wouldn’t give up my rubber boots! No, siree, once those marvelous water- and mud-treaders were unpacked, they stayed out for the season.

Three pairs of socks made the easy slip-ons nicely winterized while omitting a pair every day or two as the temperatures rose. I LOVE my rubber boots; easy on, easy off, they don’t shrink, and they don’t stretch out. If the insides get a little wet when walking through a puddle you thought was a tish shallower, plastic bag liners are available with most grocery purchases.

One thing you can’t do with rubber boots, and that I caution others about, is kicking. Kicking a frozen steel gate to get it loose is just plain brainless, unless you have a husband nearby to blame. Big-black-toe phobia lasts for a very long time.

Another foolish thing to try while wearing rubber boots is attempting to run. A person can sprint right over themselves twice in ten giant leaps while closely resembling a duck with three feet.

When the water puddles dry up but the mud is still deep, rubber boots are a little challenging, kind of like trudging with a toddler hanging onto each ankle. Not to despair, though; the mud is easily kicked off but, way too often, the boot goes right with it. At this point, remind yourself to be closer to dry ground the next time, as it doesn’t work too well hopping one-footed in mud.

I Googled “rubber boots” once to get a bit of history and guess what? If Charles Ingalls (Pa from “Little House on the Prairie”) would have lived thirty years longer, he too could have had the easy life, wearing rubber boots. To think that this wonderful footwear has been around since the late 1800s is creepy. Charles would turn over in his grave if he could see what’s become of them, though.

Pink flowered, stripes, poka dots, sissy pull on-straps, and I’ve even seen them with a heel! Those fancy-pants designers in New York are putting a bad rap on the most required footwear accessory of the farm. Rubber boots were invented, and intended to stay, black!

I could buy a purple couch or a new horse and Ed wouldn’t notice, but the instant I walked out of the house in a new pair of black rubber boots, I would get the “Were those necessary?” look.

Farm gals just can’t have enough pairs of black rubber boots…