Of the things I'm getting used to in living here (things like microscopic ants that just appeared out of NOWHERE but are EVERYWHERE and brown-ness) it's the "thunderstorms" that are the hardest for me.
This afternoon I was sitting on the porch with Skye writing a column and it started "raining." And that's when I got the metaphor - constipated rain. I'll let your imagination describe that for you.
I'll just say - I'm used to gullywashers. This was not a gullywasher.
BUT while it might not actually rain in all its liberating glory, it smells like rain often. It is by far the most pungent nature good-smelling odor I've ever smelled and I remember it from living in New Mexico.
The other day I was substitute teaching and when I opened the door to let children outside, the fragrance hit me. The nature-loving tree-hugger that I am, said to their accompanying teacher, "Oh my gosh, you can smell the rain."
She looked at me like, "Um, yeah, what else are we supposed to do with it? We never see it; we might as well be able to smell it."