Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I stepped outside my front door this evening for my usual walkies. It was cool and raining, but I was prepared with sweatshirts, windbreaker, and hoods. I stopped a minute under the porch to see if the rain would stop or if the gray clouds would clear and move on. As I watched, a dab of color sprouted in front of my eyes and bloomed into the arch of an impressionist rainbow, soft diffuse red and yellow and indigo and green, muted lines, water colored. The arch grew until it crossed the entire curve of the sky.

The rainbow brightened as the sun and rain shifted. The color intensity grew and blossomed with each minute. A second dab of color echoed the first and paralleled the primary rainbow, déjà vu rainbow as the secondary arc mirrored the first. Then both bands widened taking up more space like the difference between one inch and three inch wide satin ribbons. When I thought the rainbows could not change any more the colors brightened even more intensely, the bands widening so broadly they nearly touched. And then something I’d not seen before: the little rainbows inside, that is, on the earth side of the primary rainbow, odd pastel colors of pink and teal and robin’s egg blue and cream. I discover they have a lovely name: supernumerary rainbows.

The dark clouds framing the arches were battleship gray, charcoal, thunderously hued cumulus providing a contrasting matte to show off the arcs. Is it any less magical to know rainbows are a physical optical phenomena that occurs when light goes through a raindrop at a 42° angle? Or to know the secondary rainbow is caused because the light is reflected a second time through the raindrops increasing the angle to 53°? I think not. As I watched the magic happen in front of my eyes I thought, I haven’t put my camera together yet, thought of dashing inside and putting it all together in a blitz, getting the picture. But the techno-ditz is a slow technological learner and I knew in my little ole pea picking heart {Semantical Aside:: the term pea-picker originally meant an inferior person who had to pick peas or make his living off the land, often referring to “Okies” or “Arkies”. The term was popularized on the radio show of Tennessee Ernie Ford; bless you for brightening many lives with your music. Rest in peace. I don’t like labels much. My mother was born in Oklahoma and she is a most excellent, hard working woman who has stories to tell::} it would be a waste of my time and I would lose my moment of experience. It is such a delight TO BE fully in the moment. I watched the rainbow happen in all its permutations and am sharing a thousand words instead of the picture. I did resolve to get my camera together.

And so I had a lovely evening constitutional. Where did you walk, Kas? The rain had lessened and I walked toward the end of the rainbow, but pots of gold don’t just happen in my life. I work very hard for them, so I found myself wandering somewhere over the rainbow and past the rose lady’s garden on the other side of the city park where the afterglow light hit her dozens of rose bushes with a peachy apricot tint reflecting from the sun beamed clouds. The burnt ash gray clouds had moved east taking the rainbow with them.

I turned the corner toward home to see the last lick of colors left in the sky, a curved gleaming scimitar of all colors hilted with a steel gray cloud, piercing the earth as it faded into the pewtered sky. Finally, in a flash, it was gone.

I followed through when I got home. I put the camera together. For me that means reading the instructions, fiddling with the equipment, reading the instructions while fiddling with the equipment, double and triple checking to make sure I did it all right before going to the next step so I don’t break something that can’t be fixed, then re-reading the instructions. I don’t ask the tech guy to do it for me because it’s my equipment and I’m going to have to know what to do with it when it needs attention.

I made it work! Except the message appeared that says it can’t use the memory card I bought, and looking at all the information I may have bought the wrong card. So I’ll take the wrong card with me when I venture out to the stores on Saturday or Sunday and return it in exchange for the right card. Yes, I saved the receipt. OF COURSE, I saved the receipt. No, no OCD here. Nah. Just methodical techno-ditzing so in the future somewhere over the rainbow can be shared in pictures and words and we’ll know how to work the equipment properly according to recommended manufacturer’s instructions. After I learn how to take pictures.

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