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It's a sign, I tell you
Nov. 6th, 2008 07:49 pmWell, I'm not sure of what, exactly, but I can think of possibilities and I'll bet you can too.
This morning at dawn, the air was pink. I kid you not, yes, I've seen pink skies before and yes, we had one. The whole sky, even the dense rain clouds along the western horizon. There was so much pink out there that the very air seemed to glow like a flamingo in the sunlight, except there was no sun. It was cloudy, we were supposed to expect rain. You couldn't see the sun, but everything was pink for at least 15 minutes.
"Red sky at morning, sailor take warning..." So my dad used to tell us. Except it wasn't really red. We did get rain. It dripped most of the day, including a couple of heavy downpours and some thunder rumbles, though I never saw any lightning. Thunderstorms in November are not common here. July and August they are common, September and October occasional, but by November, nada. The last time I remember thunder after Halloween was around 1984, in fact. That was on a very peculiar day when Gary and I went Christmas shopping together downtown and there were heavy thunderstorms. We were carrying umbrellas but got well drenched, and I can tell the year because I remember buying a teddy bear for my one year old niece, who is now almost 25 years old and shacked up with her boyfriend out in Oregon somewhere.
Anyway, just before sunset another sky phenomenon appeared. I was out in the pasture and it was dripping rain even though a good crack in the clouds had appeared to the west. The sun suddenly came through that crack and a rainbow started to build to the northeast. I had a good clear view so I stood under a maple tree (yes I know, don't stand under a tree in a thunderstorm) and watched it. Sure enough, it was building up from the horizon at two points, and continued to intensify until the arcs met in the middle. It kept getting brighter. You could easily see all six colors (I've never quite been able to distinguish between violet and indigo in this context, though, so I say six, not seven.) The sky under the arch started to glow pink just as it had in the morning. The arch kept getting brighter. I really wished for a camera, but knew if I went to the house for it, the whole thing would be gone when I got back.
A second set of "foundations" began growing, outside the first arc. Sure enough, the colors on these were reversed, with red on the inside and violet on the outside. They kept brightening and growing until the secondary arch actually joined at the top. by then the primary bow was positively brilliant, as was the pink sky contained within it. By contrast, the sky between primary and secondary bows was a blue gray that just accentuated the brilliant colors of the arches themselves.
By that time, the sun was sitting on the horizon and both bows faded as the sun slipped into darkness.
Only one other time in my life have I seen complete primary and secondary rainbows at once. That was in 1973 while driving through the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. The air on that occasion was incredibly clear. On this occasion, things were foggy, combined with steamy white smoke from where a neighbor was illegally burning wet leaves. The rainbows themselves, however, were petty much identical on both occasions.
This morning at dawn, the air was pink. I kid you not, yes, I've seen pink skies before and yes, we had one. The whole sky, even the dense rain clouds along the western horizon. There was so much pink out there that the very air seemed to glow like a flamingo in the sunlight, except there was no sun. It was cloudy, we were supposed to expect rain. You couldn't see the sun, but everything was pink for at least 15 minutes.
"Red sky at morning, sailor take warning..." So my dad used to tell us. Except it wasn't really red. We did get rain. It dripped most of the day, including a couple of heavy downpours and some thunder rumbles, though I never saw any lightning. Thunderstorms in November are not common here. July and August they are common, September and October occasional, but by November, nada. The last time I remember thunder after Halloween was around 1984, in fact. That was on a very peculiar day when Gary and I went Christmas shopping together downtown and there were heavy thunderstorms. We were carrying umbrellas but got well drenched, and I can tell the year because I remember buying a teddy bear for my one year old niece, who is now almost 25 years old and shacked up with her boyfriend out in Oregon somewhere.
Anyway, just before sunset another sky phenomenon appeared. I was out in the pasture and it was dripping rain even though a good crack in the clouds had appeared to the west. The sun suddenly came through that crack and a rainbow started to build to the northeast. I had a good clear view so I stood under a maple tree (yes I know, don't stand under a tree in a thunderstorm) and watched it. Sure enough, it was building up from the horizon at two points, and continued to intensify until the arcs met in the middle. It kept getting brighter. You could easily see all six colors (I've never quite been able to distinguish between violet and indigo in this context, though, so I say six, not seven.) The sky under the arch started to glow pink just as it had in the morning. The arch kept getting brighter. I really wished for a camera, but knew if I went to the house for it, the whole thing would be gone when I got back.
A second set of "foundations" began growing, outside the first arc. Sure enough, the colors on these were reversed, with red on the inside and violet on the outside. They kept brightening and growing until the secondary arch actually joined at the top. by then the primary bow was positively brilliant, as was the pink sky contained within it. By contrast, the sky between primary and secondary bows was a blue gray that just accentuated the brilliant colors of the arches themselves.
By that time, the sun was sitting on the horizon and both bows faded as the sun slipped into darkness.
Only one other time in my life have I seen complete primary and secondary rainbows at once. That was in 1973 while driving through the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. The air on that occasion was incredibly clear. On this occasion, things were foggy, combined with steamy white smoke from where a neighbor was illegally burning wet leaves. The rainbows themselves, however, were petty much identical on both occasions.
