It's not the snow, it's the slush

So what's this got to do with gardening? It's the posh footgear.

I trudged through snow and slush this gray afternooon wearing my Hunter Wellington boots--purchased for me from Smith & Hawken (back when they were purveyors of quality garden supplies).

For years I hankered after the Hunter brand of Wellington boots--if they're good enough for the Queen of England, they're good enough for me--so a dear friend stumped up and bought me a pair in navy blue.

Today, as my Hunter Wellies and I slid in the slush, I remembered an incident from my youth.

When I was in college, three guys I knew took a summer road trip across the U.S. Two were sparky Americans, the third was a visitor from Sweden with limited English.

The fellows planned to save on expenses by staying at the homes of family friends, and were prepared to sing for their suppers by being effervescent conversationalists during the evenings ahead.

The Swede needed some vocabulary help. His American buddies drew up a list of four remarks, one of which would be a plausible response to any conversational sally from a friendly adult. The Swede memorized the list and they set off. The indispensable phrases were:

I don't know much about art, but I know what I like.

It's not what you know, it's who you know.

It's not the heat, it's the humidity.

And my favorite:

Especially in the South.

Here's my addition:

It's not the snow, it's the slush.

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