The End of the Rainbow
Glenn, MI
Thursday morning, the septic inspectors came the house. We waited for them to finish before we made a move.
Then, we took advantage of pleasant weather, and enjoyed a long walk thru the colorful forest of autumnal Glenn.
Our timing was perfect. By noon, the wind and rain resumed, so we spent the rest of a relaxing day watching baseball on TV and an angry lake thru the window. Aside from that morning walk, I left the house only once, to grab a pizza from the Glenn Store. Katy and Perry would be pleased and surprised to know that they gave me one.
Yesterday morning, as dawn broke, the lake receded. So I went for a long walk on the beach.
In the rain.
It started before I left, so I initially decided not to go. Then, for whatever reason, I changed my mind.
I’m glad I did. I’ve walked this beach many times, usually under clear skies, often under clouds, and sometimes in a gentle mist. But never in the rain. And never as the sun was coming up.
The solar effect is obviously not as spectacular as at the end of the day. But, like the Allegretto of Beethoven’s seventh symphony, there is something soothing and sublime about the lake coming to view by the soft light of an unseen source.
There were (as might be expected) no people. And no wind. The lake lapped gently against the receding sand, like a dog tending a wound. The rain was steady, yet gentle, which somehow added to the serenity of the scene (and the stupidity of the stroll).
In this weather and at this hour, the backhoe was silent. Behind its rising wall, it sat on ground now slightly elevated, a sign of early progress in an ongoing battle with the approaching sea. We’ll see if it can hold the high ground.
Actually, come to think of it, we won’t.
My path blocked, I turned and walked as far as I could the other direction. Then I returned, soaked yet satisfied, to the house. By the time I came up the stairs, the rain stopped (of course).
On the walkway to the deck, I looked back over the lake, and received my reward. A vivid rainbow, as spectacular as any I’ve seen, arched unbroken across the clearing sky. It was like a portal to Paradise, as viewed from the inside. We know Irish legend places a pot of gold at each end. But, at the moment, for a few minutes, my treasure was right here.
As the rainbow dissipated and the clouds lifted, I went inside. After cleaning up and re-filling my coffee, I read for an hour or so. I then woke David, and we went to South Haven.
Much like Saugatuck a couple days ago, the town was calm and quiet. Streets were decked in warm autumn regalia, but seemed braced for a long winter freeze. Shops were mostly open…but mostly empty. To a lesser degree, that was also the case for restaurants, including our destination.
As we approached Taste, it appeared closed. Outdoor tables covered the sidewalk, but the October chill kept them empty. Peering thru the window, we considered other options when we saw little activity indoors. But the door yielded to our tug, and the hostess walked us to our table.
The meal was terrific, but left us too full to finish. Despite walking past this place countless times, we’d never eaten there. Katy and Perry commended it often. And, as is often the case, they were right. As David said afterward, I wish we’d stepped into this place sooner.
We walked off lunch with a final stroll up Phoenix Street, then back down the other side, before stepping back into the car.
Construction detoured us off Blue Star Highway, through rolling farmland resplendent in the incipient color of an approaching fall.
If Beethoven’s seventh was the soundtrack to my morning, his sixth was the theme for our afternoon. We’ve driven this way many times, but on this day, it was particularly beautiful. As we have throughout the week, we are noticing more things that have often come to view, but that we’ve never really seen. Maybe we should do so more often, when we aren’t on the cusp of letting something go?
No other cars were around. We had the narrow roads to ourselves. We passed exhausted vineyards, fading from green to gold…and trees tinged with bright red highlights as harbingers of the fall fireworks of coming weeks.
For those, we are a bit early. The only fire yesterday was in the grill, at the end of the day.
Before preparing the feast, David and I indulged the season by playing football in the yard. But we had to indulge quickly. In Michigan, winter comes quick. From a naive Southern perspective, it seemed to arrive last night.
As the wind picked up, the temperature dropped, and we put the ball away. We watched the lake gather steam, and headed back into the house. David turned on the baseball game, and I prepared to wash down another relaxing October day.
Last night was the first this week without a chance of rain. It was also the first this season with a chance of frost. When we arrived last week, temperatures were warm, and we were in the lake. By the time we depart, eight days later, plants will be shielded by blankets, and ice may cover autumn leaves.
As such, and in the spirit of his drenched father earlier that day, my son did what anyone would do in an age when insane is the new sane.
He slept outside (comfortably wrapped in his Boy Scout-grade sleeping bag).
JD
