Rain-snow in April does not sound appealing, and I tried to get out of our morning nature walk that day.
"It's rain-snowing kids," I said.
They didn't seem to catch the meaning of that so I continued, "It's wet."
I said, "It's cold. Rain-snow, you know what I'm saying? Wet and cold."
Finally I said, "Let's just stay home."
I patted the couch, hoping to entice them to cozy cuddling with a book in lieu of going outside, but my son pulled his scooter into the front hallway and my daughter reminded me that we have a weather journal project in the works.
"We can't have a weather journal with only nice days in it, Mom," she said.
So we went outside in the rain-snow, and I held my gray umbrella over me under gray skies, walked on gray sidewalks and crossed gray streets in a gray mood to a nearby park where I saw yellow.
"Is that forsythia?" We were about a block away from the bush when we spotted the color.
When we got to the bush, my daughter said, "No, not forsythia. It's a spicebush."
How many times have I passed by this bush, even sat next to it on a park bench, and not noticed it? I guess I needed a gray day for me to see color.
And I needed my daughter to identify it for me. I've never
It was indeed a wet day, a cold day, but, still, it was another nice day to add to our journals.
Photo: Spicebush in the park on Friday.
Drawing: I drew a some spicebush twigs last fall.