It wasn't alarming to see a young man wearing shorts into church one crispy spring morning. The thermometer reported only twenty-two degrees and pellets of wind-driven ice swirled outside. Earlier that week I'd seen people, with warmer blood than I can manufacture, defying the slow retreat of winter by wearing flip-flops.  They must have strict seasonal rules concerning apparel.  At some pre-appointed date they lock all their warmth-providing clothing away and are only allowed access to the next season‚s garb. It's a form of self-discipline, I reason, a physical conditioning process of some sort. 

            He must have seen me shudder and pull my sweater closer, because the boy in short-legged pants spoke up.  His apologetic explanation warmed me instantly. There were no clean pants in his drawer. This problem I can relate to. His statement wasn't a sign of defiance or symbol of toughness. He had simply exhausted the supply of preferred apparel.  

            I've been in the same predicament several times in the past few days. My drawer holds an adequate number of blue jeans, I just use them faster this time of year.  Because I have vowed not to complain about the long-awaited and highly anticipated arrival of mud and circumstances that transform frozen cattleyard materials into a boot-suctioning gel, I won't. The stuff that is getting my pants dirty might also be residue from a newborn calf that needed to be carried in to the warm shed. The stiffened denim most likely was used as a quick hand towel to rid fingers of sticky colostrum milk after guiding a cold hungry mouth to its first meal. Soiled knees are the result of kneeling in bedding to support a wobbly calf while it drinks and sometimes communing with the Almighty for assistance. 

            The blue jean drawer isn't the only supply area that empties out rapidly. Coveralls, coats, hats, gloves, socks and long-johns can't get through the washing machine fast enough. I can sympathize with anyone who opens their drawer or closet to the horror of no clean pants. I can relate to the sleep-deprived individuals who conk out before they get their clean pants in the dryer and wake up to cold wet clean pants. And to those of you who desperately climb into pants that are so crusty that they can almost stand alone, I've been there too.