The Pot of Gold
Ramblings of a Retired Mind The Pot of Gold As the rain began to let up, hope stirred in me. Today, I thought, could finally be the day. Since moving to Polson and settling onto our lot with its ever-changing mountain views, we've grown to love the vivid rainbows that follow a good storm. But we'd been waiting for the one. The full, sweeping arch that a sky like this deserves. Back in the Chicago suburbs, rainbows were more rumor than reality. With houses fifteen feet apart and trees crowding every sightline, you might catch a whisper of color through the branches, but never the arc. Never the whole thing. This is a special day, a d...