What did you do in the mountains?

We were climbing some mountain in Switzerland—my family and I. I was maybe 17 or so. There was a bright blue sky. We had been climbing down a series of switchbacks, descending from the top where we’d been earlier in the day. Just as we turned the corner of a switchback, a storm blew in from nowhere. Right there was this little, natural alcove—a stone roof overhead and a plinth in front, with a posy of flowers growing on top.

It was so beautiful to stand there, out of the rain, watching the storm through the flowers. The rain beaded on the stems, and a mist got us gently wet, which was nice, since we were hot from the descent. It was just one sibling and I, at that point. I guess we had spread out along the path.

Then the storm left and the sun came out, and I don’t remember if there was a rainbow or not. Probably. It had that feel of rainbow—darkness and sunshine in sharp opposition, and color in the sky. The sun was low in the sky, and the yellows and greens were deep and vibrant.