In southern New England where I live, it's mud season. It's ugly, wet, and cold with sleet and rain all piled on top of each other. Wet socks. Wet shoes. Cold feet. It is a miserable time and made more miserable by the fact that half the people I know have escaped to somewhere warm. This time of year, the only way to avoid a misery is to stay inside and moan, unless, unless you have the solution to the season, and I do.
在我生活的（美国）新英格兰南部地区，如今正是泥泞的季节。这个时节丑陋不堪、潮湿寒冷，雪花和雨水相互堆积。袜子是湿的，鞋子是湿的，就连脚丫也冷冰冰的。这种日子让人苦不堪言，而使它越发可悲的是我认识的人有一半都逃到其他温暖的地方去了。一年中的这个时候，逃避折磨的唯一方式就是呆在家里，满腹牢骚，除非——除非你找到对付这个时节的方法，就像我一样。
They sit by the door waiting for me. And while I may speak more about the narrowness of my very circumscribed life than their real worth, just the fact that they're sitting there, waiting for me, makes me happy.
它们正坐在门边等着我呢。也许我更经常提到自己那比其实际价值更加狭隘的局限生活，仅仅看着它们坐在那儿，等待着我，我就感到幸福不已。
I speak, of course, of my wonderful, brilliant, intelligently designed, 4)calf-high rubber boots. They are a piece of industrial genius. They are real and vibrant, and make my life more worth living.
当然，我在说的正是我那双兼具美妙与智慧、设计巧妙的中筒胶靴。它们是工业智慧的杰作。它们真实而充满生机，让我的生活更有意义。
Others may speak of the newest digital gadget. Others may speak of the latest way of connecting to the world, something that promises something better. Every day brings new promises of connectivity; a new way to save us. But these things do not save me. Hardly anything is capable of saving me. I have sampled all of these things, and I find them wanting. None of these things are real—they are only promises.
也许有些人会赞美最新的电子产品；有些人则赞美与世界沟通的最新方式——这些承诺给我们带来美好生活的事物。每一天都有各种全新的沟通承诺；一个解救我们的新方式。但这些东西都救不了我，几乎没有一样能拯救我。我尝试过所有这些东西，它们都无法让我满意。这些东西都不真实——它们只是空口白话而已。
But my rubber boots are real and they do not fail me. I slip them on over my socks at a moment's notice. They go on easily. My feet rejoice like the wagging tail of a dog waiting for its walk. My feet know they are safe.
但是，我的胶靴非常实在，从未令我失望。我随时都能将胶靴套在袜子外面。它们简便易穿。我的双脚就像小狗等待散步时摆动起来的尾巴一样欢乐，它们知道自己很安全。
I step outside the house and nothing can stop me—the late season snowstorm, the puddle of standing water at the bottom of my porch steps that will never evaporate, the mud and muck this season brings. My feet are warm and dry and happy. And so am I.
我踏出家门，没有任何事情能阻挡我——深冬季节的暴风雪、我家门廊台阶上那永远挥散不去的雨水坑，还有这个季节带来的烂泥和污秽。我的双脚温暖干燥，非常开心。我也很快乐。
My boots are modest. They make no promise they can't keep. I found them at one-third the price of the wellies I looked at longingly for years. Mine are American-made and inexpensive and unattractive and brown and sturdy. They are now three years old and still look new. I know I will have them forever. I will die with them on. They are homely and they are wonderful.
