it rained. it's still raining, actually, but for a while it was, like, the deluge. not too long after the downpour began, i opened the door and beheld sheets of windswept water lashing the road and passing cars. in the wavering light of automobile headlamps, i saw our neighbor across the street crawling around atop the roof of his studio, perhaps putting a tarp on -- the driving rain made it impossible to tell. the street was a river, and, spectacular though it looked, i also had that pang born of longtime canyon living, of wondering how long it was gonna rain this hard.
not long, as it turned out. the flood has abated, at least for now. i almost forgot the sound of rain. and the smell -- ooo, goddess. i opened the door again just now, and the sharp scent of wet foliage instantly filled my head. that medicine-y, laurel/eucalyptus smell. ahhh.
it's a simple pleasure to inhale, but the fundamentality of it all made me think of the trees and hope they also feel relief. like this poor parched specimen of my acquaintance above, they are thirsty.