So this is Spring?

And it rained.
From winter snow to spring showers.
And then to summer storms?
Warm enough to be comfortably moldy perhaps.
if it were not for the differing levels of perpetual gray, not a single inhabitant in this saturated Hell would ever believe that the sun and moon ever existed.
Drunken past-times formerly devoted to by fairweatherers, now bore the markings of deeply contrasting greens against brown and black muds of the north lands. And in increasing volumes apathetic to the duldrums of Pennsylvanian spring's unpalpable persistant dredging "play on." was meekly murmered by fat tulips and bluebells.