Buttercup Attitude, Missoula, Montana

Just as I seriously pondered fleeing home from the rata-tat-tat of sleet pellets bouncing off my coat's hood, a spree of undaunted buttercups crossed the grassy path; my dedication to a Sunday afternoon walk was restored.
If these tiny cups of sunlight remained staunchly undaunted by the surrounding ice shot, I could finish what I set out to do, and dry out when I got home. As my lovely mother loved to say (with a smile, of course!) in the face of precipitation proffered as an excuse: What, are you made of sugar?