Playing in puddles
Walking through a parking lot, I watched winding rivers of runoff between banks of slush, miniature ice jams creating cold lakes. With a step of my boot I straightened here, sculpted there – I broke through the dams. I could have stayed longer, but I didn’t want to have to explain what I was doing. As soon as someone came, I walked on.
A little late, I re-potted the amaryllis bulb we received as a gift (after it bloomed) last year. It grew huge scimitar leaves and I couldn’t bear to cut them off, so they stayed too long, well into November. It won’t be blooming in February, but it’ll still come before anything outside.