This post doesn't have a photo, and that's the point. Let me explain.
On Friday we had some rain come in later in the day. We had driven over to the South Fork Creek area for errands and to hunt for some supper out: The Bread of Life was too crowded and the Mexican place just east of Russell Springs on Hwy 80 was "just right."
As we were driving south on Hwy 127, the sun came out against a dark bank of clouds to the east. You know what that means. Our youngest son saw it first: "Look, a rainbow!"
When we hit the valley down by 501 and 127, we saw it in full. A large, thick end of rainbow coming right down to the east, virtually in a Mennonite farm yard.
"Pull over!" I said. This idea was met with much general consternation from the back seat and some eye-rolling from my husband in the front. By now, everyone is used to my wanting to take photos wherever we go––I do need a bumper sticker that says, "WARNING! This car breaks for f-stops!"––but everyone was hungry.
I quickly jumped out of the car, saw the photo opportunity which, I have to say, was virtual perfection, eyed the stream of ten or so cars that had also been heading south behind us, and turned on my camera. Snap. Snap! SNAP! Nothing. Battery dead and needed recharging.
I'd like to think that this dead battery saved me from being splattered across the pavement. I don't think I am being too dramatic when I say that I was a foot away from running across the highway to get a better photo unobscured by power lines. The realization that the camera was out of juice, and that there were many cars heading past us, happened at the same moment.
So I watched the rainbow for a few moments and hopped back into the car, savoring some bittersweet irony while my son said, "Mom, why do you always have to take pictures?" I could only answer that I will never stop seeing beauty in the world––and to quote Paul Simon, whose new album, So Beautiful or So What, drops next week, twenty-five years after his timeless Graceland, "these are the days of miracle and wonder."
I quietly realized, as we pressed onward towards an elusive meal at 6:45pm, that there are these moments in our lives when we are supposed to pause, reflect and enjoy the majesty––and the mystery––without the aid of electronic devices. It was an humbling experience.
You come back when you're ready!
For those of you who need visuals with your blog posts (and I am one of those people!), here is a Casey County rainbow photo, from May 2006, on my former blog, In the Pantry: click here.