I become a fool when faced with a rainbow. They’re unexpected, rare — and just really pretty. Fun to see; even better to photograph.

After working on refinishing some furniture most of Sunday afternoon, Spence and I had gone inside to have dinner with my parents — and left the nightstands we’ve been cleaning, scraping, sanding and painting out to dry. It was sunny then, and hot; nothing at all to suspect a storm was brewing.

And it never really brewed. Standing in the kitchen with a bowl of cupcake batter in my hands, I looked up to see the sky just suddenly release. No advanced warning. It was pouring . . . but still sunny. Rain and sun. Sun and rain. Two contrasting forces at once — and both covering our wooden nightstands.

“It’s raining!” I yelled, practically throwing my batter-filled bowl into the sink. “The nightstands! It’s raining!”

“What? No, it’s not,” Spencer said automatically (and incorrectly), but I didn’t wait to argue with him. After stuffing my feet in flip-flops and tearing out of the house, I lifted a nightstand with the shred of strength I possessed and shoved it onto the porch.

Though it had gotten a good rinse, the furniture seemed okay. We wiped it down before mopping rainwater from our own faces. My hair, shirt and feet were soaked. And oddly, strangely, bizarrely? The sun was still out, illuminating the rainclouds.

I spotted the rainbow just as I turned to go dry off. It was peeking between the trees of the front yard — just a sliver of color. I started running for the second time in ten minutes — though this time for my camera.

The rainbow was gone almost as soon as it appeared. But that just made it all the sweeter.