The Snow Day That Wasn't

This week's prompt at One Deep Breath is "color(ful)" and despite this haiku's lack of obvious color, it sprung from that prompt... the events described in the body of this post, coupled with thinking about the way that color can signal surprise and change, led me here:

Melting ice cracks, then
slides, then tumbles off the roof –
cartwheeling towards spring.

It didn’t look like it was going to be a good day for spending time outside. Not only because of the weather (wet, grey, cold), but because I stayed up late last night watching TV at S's while we reassured each other that of course Monday would be a snow day.

That way lies trouble, friends.

Still, I did manage to get out in it, despite my exhaustion. Decided to take the path of least resistance and walk in the woods behind my son’s school before going in to pick him up. At first, I was somewhat crabbily focused on the non-snowiness of it all… lots of mud, the constant sound of dripping. Then I gradually started to notice more textures… dry wood in a shed and a pile of wet wood just outside. The stillness of the wrought-iron cemetery gate vs. the spatter of roof runoff o’ertopping its gutter. Two trees had managed to hold onto some color, and seemed almost proud; I imagined myself to be taking their portraits.

Then the contrast between the outdoors and the riotous color and whirl of D’s cartwheels:

(Thanks to the people at One Deep Breath
and Thing-A-Day
for their continuing inspiration.)