One of my favorite smells in the world happens as a summer rain hits hot pavement. It is part moisture, part cloud, part dirt, part heat, and all awesome. I think I was seven years old the first time I cognitively remember noticing and appreciating that smell. We lived in El Paso, Texas and were playing outside as the sun was sinking. In a rare happening for the desert, it started to sprinkle. I remember my dad standing on the driveway, taking a deep, exaggerated breath, and proclaiming his love of that smell. Growing up in the Northeast, he was accustomed to more moisture and probably appreciated any extra water whenever it happened while we lived in the desert. Ever since then, I took extra delight in summer rains.
Today has been full of summer rain in Middle Tennessee. The morning started with scattered showers. Later, a two-minute downpour was followed by the bright sun to absorb the puddles. Even later, a ten minute sprinkle fell so light, the downward motion deceived my eyes. I knew it was raining because the sidewalks told me so, but I could hardly see the drops. Regardless of what my eyes told me, I could smell summer hanging in the air.
And pure elation followed.