The desert drinks


Painting: "Desert Rain" by Quincy Anderson

Yes, the occasion of rain in the desert always warrants a post. Rain so welcome that it actually smells sweet. Rain that invigorates my soul to the degree I drove home with my windows and moon roof open so I could feel the drops on my dry desert skin. I stuck my hands out the window and captured rain so I could lick it off my hands. I tasted hope.

Here, the desert begins to emit a lovely odor even before a drop ever hits the ground. I think it's the smell of the plants and the dirt begging for rain. I think it's the fervor of their rain dance. I could smell the divine, wild creosote along the highway and the tiny, wet leaves of the ocotillo in my front yard. I laughed at the vision of the hibiscus out back, smiling with a big red mouth as it savored the drink.

Oh, the air before a rain. Warm and so still and hushed. It feels like standing on a bed, in a room bathed in early light, and whipping a freshly laundered sheet high above your head…and then collapsing underneath the perfect air and space inside the sheet. It feels safe, like the air just before a rain. So safe.

Mmmmmmmm, desert rain.


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