Sunshine, Rain, and Rainbows

My home is now in "sunny Queensland," and sunny it is. The light here is blindingly bright, and clouds do not often veil the sun's power. Where we live, the center of our solar system is larger and more radiant and hotter than I have ever seen it anywhere else. The light in Brisbane is more brilliant than in the searing desert or on a snowy mountain on a clear, cold day. So intense is the resplendence, that on a cloudless day, which is almost every day, all the dimension is extracted from the layers of landscape that unfold before me as I drive or cycle up and down the hills. Through my squinting eyes, forest green, grass green, lime green, and seafoam green blend into a muddy green mixture, not unlike the appearance of our green play doughs after Micah Jade, who is 2.5, has "put them away".


But, just before the rain, when the clouds roll in, and the force of the sun is diluted, haze softens the landscape and all the subtle shades of green come alive. Aware of the coming rain, the gum trees release a thick, earthy, minty smell into the haze. That powerful aroma clears your head so that you can see the charcoal green of the mountains, the lime green of the bamboo palms, the brilliant green of the grass, and the grey green of the gum trees. The smell and the haze and the greens are startlingly beautiful, and made more so by the rarity of rainy days during winter and spring.

Last week, after a sunny day, the clouds began to tumble into clear blue expanse of sky over my house. We had just arrived back at our house from school on day when I had the car. The girls were riding bikes under the carport and on the flat part of the pavement in our driveway. Jordan, Meryl, and Micah Jade circled around and around, like little compulsive hamsters in a wheel, burning off the extra energy accumulated by sitting and behaving well (as far as I know) all day at school. As they chased one another, the rain foreshadowed by the haze began to gently descend.


The rain fell slowly at first, allowing us time to wait a few minutes outside, cooling off in the first few drops. As we pondered going inside, Greg walked down the hill from the bus stop and in through our front gate. After interrupting driveway traffic for hugs from three hot little girls, he noticed what I had missed while enjoying my little girls biking like neurotic rodents.


Blazing across the sky, a rainbow, big and wide and bright, paraded from the hills in front of us across the heavens to the valley behind our house. This rainbow was spectacular, floating above the haze, framed by the fantastic greens all around, by the blue of the sunshiny half sky, and by the gray of the rain clouds invading the other half of the visible atmosphere. The girls ooh-ed and ah-ed, even my crusty, little toddler. Greg waited in the rain, and I stood by him for a moment, appreciating all the bold color surrounding us in every direction.

In my life, rainbows usually grace the front of lunchboxes and my little pony houses. I see them on drawings on the fridge and the white board. They can be waxy crayon creations on paper or marker stains that I dread extracting from the white walls of our rental house. My usual experiences with rainbows are beautiful in their own way, but nothing like a real rainbow. A real rainbow is infinitely superior to the representation, just as a real ice cream is measurelessly tastier than a billboard picture by the side of the road. This real rainbow was staggering and earthshaking for me, a happy reminder that while the sun's shining on my everyday world is bright and lovely, rain brings cool refreshment and even sometimes a rainbow, blazing with rare and vivid color across the heavens of suburbia.


Rainbows never really show up in pictures well, so use my words and your own imagination to generate the image. Little girls that ride bikes in compulsive circles, do, however, take a great picture.