From my window there is the sky finally open to blue after a deluge of water all day. The various hues of green could function as a color wheel for an art class. Cut green of the lawns, lemon green tops of the laurel bushes, dusty sea green of the wheat field, dots of evergreen, dots of deciduous green and all heavily laden with rain. Heavy is the only word for the sodden red volcanic earth which stretchs out to the east of my visage.
In the distance glows a round rainbow of color, changing shape as I write. Rain, spring, my land in late May with iris blooming in the foreground. I wish you were here to sip wine with me and watch the colors move with the light. Evening comes on, and soon it will be time to eat spaghetti made the old way as I did for my kids years ago. Sauce simmering full of garden thyme, oregano, bay and garlic.
I eat my pasta, heavy with red herb fragrant sauce, and watch the rainbow build itself higher into the air, going from a circle to a rectangle rising up into the sky. There is a title for something, "building a rainbow".
Every day we are building the bridge to the unknown, to our future, to our final transformance. I would like mine to be colored, like this dinner guest in my evening cloud show.
