For the first time in days, the dawn light arrived without a cloud in the sky.
There is haze, of course; the cold temperatures, in a land where wood fires remain one of the most common sources of heat, ensures that. An inversion layer of piñon smoke rests low over the land like a veil of morning for a good three-quarters of the year.
But there are no clouds above it, only clear pale sky on all sides.
At the moment, of course, we would prefer the rain; it’s been a winter of brutal drought, and the monsoon season is too far off to be useful now. But in a year when the monsoonal patterns have already begun, if too high and distant to help the land, the accompanying light show has been a welcome distraction from days too warm and windy.
We have had only one or two rainbows since the beginning of the calendar year — at least, rainbows as literally defined. But on two or three occasions, we have had something far more rare, and more magical: sun dogs, those iridescent spires in the sky. They have appeared with increasing frequency recently, none for more years than anyone can remember and then suddenly, a scattering of them throughout a period of weeks or months, imbuing them with a spirit of signs and portents.
Given the state of the outside world, it seems apt.
Given the state of the world itself — of the Earth, and the land and air and waters — it seems unavoidable.
The gift of yesterday’s small rain now seems outsized, in actuality and in effect. It did not last long beyond sunrise — an intermittent fall over a period of a couple of hours, followed by a day-long wind of harsh and destructive force. But yesterday evening, its results were already in evidence, the land having suddenly greened up in a matter of hours.
Oh, there was plenty of green already, true. Even in the depths of what passed this year for winter, pockets of green grass remained alive and well, such were the unseasonal temperatures and weather. In recent weeks, the color has spread steadily across the land’s surface, achieving rough parity with the brown a week or so ago. But after yesterday’s rain, the green overtook it all, dormancy ceding time and space to the dominance of growth and life renewed.
Last night, among the waning gold light and blue shadows of sunset, and again this morning beneath turquoise skies spilling silver over silhouetted peaks, there is a rainbow upon the land: the dance of the desert light with warm winds, a now-vanished shower, and the nascent green re-enacting its annual rite of emergence.
Drought or no, this is a gift: a world awash in color, and in light.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
