I drove to book club last night after it had just stormed and journeyed through an array of brilliantly lit canvases of city life from stark, modern imagery soaked in light and shadows, to soft, pastel impressionistic strokes subdued by mist from the passing trucks. God painted. I drove and stared in awe.
Pebble sized hail had ricocheted off my sliding glass doors and then plummeted to the ground. Wind had wrapped around my townhome building. Driving rain had drenched the ground and turned my walkway into a lake.
After the worst, I scurried to my car, carefully cradling a glass casserole dish that contained my grandmother's famous chocolate cake. Then I drove south, to Brentwood. A rainbow spanned the city of Nashville.
I savored my place in this momentary and idyllic urban pastoral scene.
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