Is the appearance of a rainbow sufficient reason for its own special blog post? I think yesterday’s was. My credentials: seasoned sky-watcher, cloud connoisseur, and constant rainbow seeker. I assure you this rainbow was extraordinary, and although no words or pictures can do it justice, I can at least acknowledge and commemorate the wonder.
It was a strange day to begin with. We all woke up to word of the terrible earthquake in Chili, followed by a tsunami advisory that seemed to include the entire Pacific coast. (“I was prepared to climb up on top of the gatehouse,” said Richard at the gate.) Fortunately, the speculation was exaggerated, but the surf was big and the day was showery and unsettled and there was a sense of something pending.
Monte and I were driving to Santa Barbara, and as we left the ranch, I saw a patch of
rainbow pouring itself into the sea, but it wasn’t, as I told Monte, an explicit one. “An explicit one?” he said. “What does that even mean?”
We were to see exactly what it meant just a few miles further south, for somewhere
between El Capitan and Dos Pueblos a rainbow began to materialize that was unlike any rainbow I have ever seen. It stretched above Highway 101 in a flawless arch from the ocean to the mountains, so that it felt as though we were driving through a rainbow tunnel. Its luminous colors shimmered, and the sky was silvery and sparkling with raindrops, and the light of the day glowed, faintly
“Can you pull over someplace?” I asked Monte.
“Are you nuts?” he asked me. (By which he meant that there really wasn’t a safe place to do so.)
“I can’t believe you’re trying to take pictures,” said Monte, who was trying to
savor the view as much as he could while driving. “This isn’t something to take
pictures of. This is an experience. Look at it! It’s changing even now. It’s ethereal.”
It was ethereal. And explicit. And also sort of magical
and spiritual and whatever you allowed yourself to feel.
We drove through the rainbow tunnel, and it was as though we had been blessed.