Rainbows and Unicorns

Or, My Eyes Are Playing Tricks On Me Thanks To The Polar Vortex

Okay, full disclosure. The events described below don't actually take place in the Adirondacks. But they could have, so please don't go calling the blog police on me. It's been a long, cold winter and I've spent the last 17 (give or take) months inside, where it's warm. And where, in the privacy of my own home, I could safely shake my fist while cursing the polar vortex without fear of retribution from the weather gods. Oh wait, that might have backfired a bit. Have mercy, y'all (I picked up the southern accent this winter after spending so much time wishing I were somewhere warm).

 

Anyway, on with my story: When I was a little girl, I thought it would be fun to ride my unicorn through the Elysian Fields while looking for rainbows. Once we'd spot one, I dreamed of galloping to the end of the rainbow where I would catch the leprechaun, eat lots of me Lucky Charms, and collect my reward. It was an impossible dream (cue Man of La Mancha), because everyone knows rainbows don't exist.

But the other day I was driving home from the Elysian Fields with my unicorn sitting beside me in the front seat of my minivan (it turns out unicorns really don't like it when you try to ride them. Who knew?) when we saw it. Plain as day, arcing across the sky, was a big, beautiful rainbow.

"They do exist, they do exist," we said (you knew unicorns can talk, didn't you?) as I sped toward the rainbow's end. I could practically taste the Lucky Charms and I was already thinking of all the ways I could spend the gold. But when we got there, all we saw was this:

I thought they said there'd be a pot of gold, not a port-a-potty of gold. I must have heard wrong.