On Thursday, I rode over the Prince of Wales bridge, to look around the eastern part of Wales (around Cardiff).
It was perfect.
And, on the way back, I was dazzled by rainbows.
I counted seven on that drive, but could only angle a photograph of one.
They were to the right and left, behind and in front. Each majestic, different and elusive.
I stared around in wonder as they appeared and reappeared.
So happy I wasn’t driving.
Last time I saw that many rainbows I was with my parents at a pub off Galway Bay in Ireland.
It was our routine to stopped in Galway for a few days, before heading up to Inishowen to stay with the family.
It was around 9pm, and still light enough outside to read a book.
There we were, next to a large window that looked out over the bay, talking about the day and listening to the musicians play in the other room, when rainbows appears out on the silver-white water. It was truly a Lady-of-the-Lake, Kermit-the-Frog magical moment.
We felt blessed.
To be fair, I believe everyone who saw those rainbows that day WAS blessed.
What a treat to see them abound again in Wales.
What a gift.
As I always say: Never trust a person who isn’t moved by a rainbow.
And a very big welcome to 2023.