Rain Walk

Today was our first rain walk of the season. The hard steady rain of yesterday had abated and instead we had what weathermen would call “showers, heavy at times” with windows of sunlight between and concurrently. 

 My very first thought, of course, was that we must go outside and look for rainbows. Jeanne and Pi joined us and we strolled down the muddy road towards the beach. Sometimes the sea was a gash of shimmering silver, the sky shifting tones of gray-white light.  

But then the sun would appear, shining through the droplets of rain, and all the trees were strewn with diamonds and every blade of new grass sparkled, and big white clouds sat squat upon the hilltops.  

Now and then we encountered neighbors and friends for a sundry assortment of roadside conversations about whether the grass will sprout, when the rain would stop, and if the green will stay. We talked about new fences and fat dogs, needing a shale base and competing for Ruffino, painful changes and reassuring cycles. 

Monte and I hadn’t worn our rubber boots, so Jeanne had the important job of stomping out a channel to divert the water that was pooling in one place. Pi, meanwhile, was sniffing out some hidden critter in the grass. His concentration was impressive.

 We were walking towards the sun and towards the sea, but we were bound to see a rainbow; not a one of us doubted that we would. And when a sudden shower swept through with a swoosh and sound like tambourines, we turned to look through its crystal-beaded curtain. And there it was: a gauzy rainbow arched in bright bands that echoed the curve of the hill and seemed to end at our house. 

No pot of gold awaited us back home, but there was good music.

And lunch.