Watching
for Rainbows
“The
way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the
rain.”
Dolly
Parton
Loons
on the lake this morning, hunkered down in a pouring rain. The lake
has been shrouded in cloud for two days, long shorelines encased in
gray fog banks. There is widespread flooding in low lying areas,
making me a tad uneasy about getting home even in my pickup truck. I
guess I asked for rain one time too many. I didn't mean rain and rain
and rain---just reasonable rain, you know.
Yesterday,
Ellen and I unloaded a truck full of soggy firewood, soaked oak,
heavy anyway, and even more so full of water. We stacked it in the
pine straw between two trees and came away muddy as lumberjacks. Then
we slogged down to the the dock and watched through binoculars while
the loons—five of them—dove and fed, making their lonesome call to
keep in touch each time they surfaced. The ground, saturated and
spongy, made goosh-goosh sounds beneath our work boots. Ace, Ellen's
white standard poodle, turned himself terra cotta up to his hocks,
fishing. The cold water did not seem to matter to him, whether the
lake, or the rain.
The
lake, like any other female, has her moods. This mood feels silent,
pensive. Perhaps she's resting from all the motor boats and screaming
kids on jet-skis. Maybe this is the lake's favorite time of year. The
loons sing their lovely songs, there is no churning of her by propellers, no drunken
teenagers burning their skin up in her shallows, no illegal fireworks
junking up her shorelines. Perhaps the fog is her way of pulling a
shawl around her shoulders and putting her feet up for a nap.
The
falling rain, the popping fire, good friends, good conversation,
loon-song---it doesn't get any better than this, y'all. I wish you
well, this rainy day. I don't think we're destined to see a rainbow
anytime soon, but I'll keep you posted if we do.
In
the spirit,
Jane
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