Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Double rainbow all the way

So at lunch I'm reading Wallace Stenger's Angle of Repose. I'm pretty far into the book and reading a dramatic scene (minor spoilers ahead) where one character is about to give birth to a child in the remote mountains of Idaho in the 1880s. No midwife or doctor in sight, of course, so her son, who is around eight or ten or so, has to rush across a rickety bridge over a dangerous stream, then take a mule ride down the mountain. Dramatic stuff. He manages to meet up with his father after retrieving a neighbor to midwife. They all arrive back at the family's cabin when the father looks up:

In the northwest the sun had broken around the lower slope of Midsummer Mountain and was sending a last long wink across the Sawtooths, straight into the black mass of rain cloud. Clear across the stone house, bridging from mountains to river bluffs, curved two rainbows, one above the other, even the upper one as bright as colored glass, sharp-edged, perfect from horizon to horizon.

Oh God. What does this mean?

After I stopped laughing, I couldn't take the book seriously anymore so I spent the rest of the day watching Double Rainbow parodies. Enjoy.

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