And minutes later, it grows into a great arching double rainbow, stretching from the horizon to its apex back to the horizon again, and without break from one to the other. The outer rainbow, which not only had the violet on the outside and the red in the center but was, of course, paler, had a few places where it and the clouds melted together, but even there you could see some color.
A dreary lake growing scum in its hideous oozy green -- and among them brilliantly white waterlilies, a shade as pure as newfallen snow.
Tiger lilies growing feral and orange on the side of the road -- sometimes with sweet peas in vivid pink, which looks more pleasing to the eye in the garden that elsewhere.
Someone cut down some trees in the midst of a stand, but whatever was intended had not yet been built, so the somber green of stand surrounded a sunlight patch of earth, reddish clay that seemed to glow in the sunlight.
An eastern sky near sunset, pearlescent blue both sky and cloud -- the clouds a little darker -- and through the tatters of cloud, a corner of the moon just peeps out, pure white.
The complication about rainstorms is that the very wind that will blow that lovely cool air instead will also spatter everything with rain. Worse of all when you can reopen the windows after but the day is already soaking up the water into the once again hot and humid air.
Algae turns quite a fluorescent shade of green. All the more striking when it fills the pond, with the more somber greens of the rushes about it. Where it's a bit about the edges, it's less notable. Even when the pond is full of dingier growth.
It is amazing how swiftly clay is weathered from its brazen red. The red is so pronounced as to make daisies, growing on a clay cliff, clash, but exposure soon softens it to ruddy brown. Further air and rain will drain the ruddiness out of it -- helped, no doubt, by the green and growing things that take root -- in a comfortable brown.
Flowers like towers, little white flowers clumped in rising columns, with bees bumbling all over them.
How strange the moon looks rising -- no longer the belligerent coppery shade of near the horizon, but not yet, nor even the golden shade it takes on changing between them -- especially when the haze in the air hides its details and holds its light in a halo about it.