Oblivious plastic

On my usual Sunday cycle ride I saw six people out on the towpath instead of the usual hundred or so. Apart from the sodden runner all had their heads bent against the rain. The uniform grey sky sucked the colour out of everything. The river was heavy and dull and not even the mad rowers were out. The crack willow had cracked and branches were strewn along the bank. Whole blossom flowers, not just petals, and twigs with new leaves lay everywhere. I could hear the horses' hooves squelching as they walked in the field by the river. Such a miserable day.

I had to find some colour and this was the best I could do.