the literal rainbow

Lately when a summer storm brews, we see huge thunderheads looming, we hear rumbling in the not-too-distance, and we see a few drops.  We run in from playing outside and watch from the window.  Wonder if it will rain on the garden, we say.  That will be nice, since we didn't water it today, we say.  Will the thunder crash down our house?  The boys ask.  But the storm blows over in a few minutes.  Barely any drops.  

Our garden suffers, so we drag out the sprinkler from the well to water it each day.  Closer to the house, we've hooked up every water play gadget imaginable for the boys, too.  Water tables, slip & slide, two different inflatable pools.  Next up: water balloons.  (For those who know me, I've been fully committed to the slip & slide fun and suffered two injuries already:  a dramatic-looking bee sting on my face and a pulled muscle in my upper abs.  Totally worth it.) 

Here's what we've learned about the storms that blow over quickly.  They are the perfect conditions for a beautiful rainbow.  Now we stay at the window a little longer and wait for it.  And sometimes for our hungry eyes they appear, huge and arcing in vivid colors, filling the space from cloud to tree top.  And then, again, they pass in a few minutes. 

I find that in life I try to hold on to things when I've figured them out.  I want to freeze time and make it stay that way forever.  Can you relate?  Change is hard because wait, I've just got a good rhythm here.  And inevitably, especially with kids, that's when things will shift again.  It's like the thunderheads and the rainbows.  The scary things don't last long.  Sometimes the good things don't either.  But they come again.  And it's not mine to say how long the storm lasts (even when we need the water) or whether that rainbow shines today (even when we could use the distraction).  We have to look for it, appreciate it when it comes, and then let it go.  

I wonder if this time at home will be the same.  Part of me wants it to be over now.  (Guess what, can't control that either.) And part of me wants to freeze it just like this, endless summer 2020.  (Guess what, kids are already growing up.) 

One thing is for sure.  I'm so glad I wasn't too scared of it.  Of the big sky and the adventure here, or the time at home, or leaving the law firm ages ago, or having kids, or starting a blog, or starting it again, or launching a side hustle.  Because when I let it arrive there is so much goodness.  

This isn't an ominous way of saying I'm shutting down the blog-- it's here to stay.  But I'm just thinking a lot about starts and stops in life, seasons of life, and how we can't be scared to start something new.  I was scared, but I did it anyway.  And those are the things I'm most proud of.  What's the thing you want to start?  What baby step can you take toward it today?  

Anyway, what else are we doing?  Trying to keep the overgrown garden alive (I grew that golden beet!) and waiting (impatiently) for the tomatoes to ripen.  

We are visiting the pool next door on the weekends until it closes.  Savoring naptime and the help from our wonderful babysitters until they leave us in August.  Wishing we had time to do more house projects, but knowing it's too hot anyway.  We'd love to tackle painting the barn doors, painting the stairs to the attic, replacing the kitchen faucet, and some fences to protect the peach trees.  I can't be in a hurry because it's too much.  But we did get a new electric smoker (!!) for the deck and finished up AC in the attic for our workspaces.  

We'll be here, if you need us.  Looking for literal rainbows in the storm.