It was about to rain. Right before the storm descended upon the valley, the green mountains on both sides of the road got a more defined contour. The sky was divided; the left part was still light blue with the white clouds; the right part was getting darker and tense. The waterfall started almost immediately, with just a few drops announcing the arrival of gigantic flows. The rain created a wall on the road making driving through it somewhat unreal, almost mysterious. The water was white and dense. I wanted to stop the car but the road was jammed between the fields with very little space on the sides. After a few miles there was finally a large parking lot to pull over. Luckily, strong storms don’t last. In the matter of minutes, the water flow began to lose its intensity and the sky cleared up.
“Where is the rainbow?” ran through my mind. It was a couple of hours before the sunset. Black and white and plain black cows continued to nibble on grass in the surrounding fields unbothered by the weather. Here and there on the slopes of the hills the horses were minding their business. Occasionally the Amish young and old passed by in their buggies. Turning back to the town, one of the roads was closed because of the fallen power lines. The storm was pretty severe after all. I had to turn back and to seek an alternative route. The sky was getting into brown shades, half of it turning gold. The road went along the corn fields with the same line of the Appalachia mountains on the backdrop.
And here it was— a rainbow. A bright, beautiful, complete rainbow hugging the green fields and the green hills, showcasing its pink-red stripe. The trees and the grass looked an especially bright shade of emerald after they had just been washed in the rain. The sun seemed to take a back seat, as if wanting to show off its creation, the rainbow. The raindrops sparkled on the leaves and for a moment all felt good in the world.