Friday, May 15, 2009
and I could see the storms in front of the mountains, their flanks covered with a fresh layer of mid-May snow, while at the lower elevations of the city, while rain had fallen much of the day. I made my way up the hill, closer to the clouds, but pedaling in the sunlight. A rainbow, illuminating the birch leaves, freshly cleansed by the day's storm. I rode closer and soon was under the arc, when I heard drops hitting leaves on the trees alongside the gravel path. Then the cloud opened over me and I thought about how one person must have splashed water from a pool and seen light refracted in its drops to discover how this perfect bow is formed. And from then on it was no longer a mystery, but an awareness of how water and light and angles converge to produce this beauty. Yet it still feels like a magical gift.
I crossed a wooden bridge, then entered the roadway where I watched water splash from my front tire into the air and the colors of the world around me were filled with a new level of brightness. The leaves, freshly-opened, nourished, cleansed by the rain, there they were.
And I had left my rain gear at work, having worn it earlier in the day, but not expecting to be caught in the downpour, yet warm enough and not minding, even enjoying, the feeling of the drops as they landed on my sleeves and pants legs.
Sometimes I need to bike in the rain. Sometimes I need to not worry about the day. And sometimes, I need to make discoveries and decisions so that I can find my way back on course.