Living at the End of the Rainbow

They say that there is gold at the end of the rainbow. I haven't found it yet, even though I discovered this evening that we're living right where it should be. It's been a stormy Saturday, one of those when the sun shines bright and hot, not a cloud in the sky. Then the white puffy clouds that are so pretty begin to move in, and before you know it, someone turns out the light and the air smells like rain. The thunder rolls over and over itself as the storm moves in, the rain pours down, the lightning flashes. Then, before it's had time to get a good start, it's all over with the sun beating down once more. An hour or two later, the whole process starts all over again.

It was after one of those storms this evening that the rainbow appeared. A double one, actually. I almost missed it, and wonder of wonders, this time I had the camera handy. This rainbow was an arc of color spanning the sky right above my house, pulsing with intensity. All the colors were easily visible: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. (You remember the ROY G BIV acronym we all learned in school.) I snapped some photos and didn't realize there were actually two rainbows until I uploaded them to the computer.

I've often joked about needing to find a pot of gold on our property to fund our dreams. This evening I could have started digging right behind the house. But if I dig around in my heart a little, I think I'll find that there has been golden treasure here all along. It shows up in small ways: my husband's little love notes on my shopping lists, our dogs who always love me, no matter how grouchy I am, the night noise of insects as I drift off to sleep this time of year, the comfort of a safe, peaceful home where love dwells. So, I have found my pot of gold after all. It's the sweet life at the end of the rainbow, right here, right now.