The Back Porch (#8)

Once again, this is an exercise from www.ndwilson.com, on his blog. It's been an interesting challenge so far!
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The sky is subtelly changing colors this morning, it's mind undecided, at first pouring grey sledge over everything, and then drowning the world in blue. For now, the sky is grey, and everything I see is tinged with grey as well. The back porch, splattered and pockmarked, already a grey hardened mash of stone, changes as well. When the sky is blue, or when the sun is out, the porch is grey. When the sky is grey, the porch takes a strange tannish hue. It is a rainbow of muted colors. The are dark reds, rusted oranges, drab yellows, deep purples, and underneath it all, the ubiquitous pale and indiscriminate color of concrete, currently a sort of beige color.
  The iron railings are also tainted with this riot of psychedelica; rusted red, tinges of green, blue reflected from the heavens, grey where the black paint has been bleached and worn away.
  Beyond the back porch, there is a sea of green. Deep, rich, waxy greens. Pale, sickly, yellowing greens. Purple and red-tinged greens. Leaves that have abandoned green all together and turned a bright, sunny yellow or a happy orange-red. The ground is littered with their many-colored corpses.
  And the sky. An impenetrable, flat, unmottled, downy grey. If it were to let the sun out from behind its smothering blankets, how the colors would be set on fire!