It’s come again, the rain! How sick you must all get of my endless rhapsodies on rain, but I really can’t stop.

After weeks of sickly, stifling heat, everything seemed pale, languid, sealed in the light like a flower into a glass paperweight. But on Saturday, there was a rush of smell, sweet rich water borne on the wind as a herald, and the horrible taut sphere of the summer sky was broken by rain. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it until I looked out the window and saw the world returning, as if I’d missed it all this time. The trees and ground were bright and vivid again, everything seeming thirsty and joyous and alive, magically restored by just the first drops, as if we’d all been powdered and stored for later use. The cold, healthy smell filled my nose and eased the headache I’d been nursing. The raindrops fell like children’s careless kisses on my skin. We are back, we are home, we are real and wet again.