When I was a kid I was into rainbows — they were my thing. If you walked into my room in 1981 you’d see so many rainbows you could half expect to hear me chanting, “I’m here! I’m ten! Get used to it!” (if that weren’t all anachronistic and junk).
When we moved to the house in Grand Terrace my mom painted a rainbow in my bedroom, a bright bold spectrum in the company of a smiling cloud and a happy sun.
That’s the first thing I thought of when I woke up to this view around 7:45 a.m. on Saturday:
Which I thought was pretty damn cool, until I wandered out to the living room and saw this:
My attempt at pasting together a panorama shot leaves something to be desired, but you get the idea.
I feel like London’s girlfriend.