Rain

I know that you're not going to believe what I have to say here, but I swear it's true.

The smell of rain in upstate New York smells unique to any other place I've ever been. I don't know why, but that pungent earthy smell is so distinct that when it rains in Avon (NY) I am immediately transported back to my childhood. It isn't any one experience I remember, just a feeling of childhood, a freeness of spirit, and, with only a few drops of rain, it's like magic.

It's been cold enough to snow here, but last week it must have warmed to 35 degrees or so, because there was a slow but constant drizzle blanketing the yard. If you could look outside you'd see something more wet than fog, but no more solid than a cloud. Mystical and murky, the rain was a balm on the chaos inside.

I'm so grateful that it rained.