There was a storm last night. I love the smell of parched earth being quenched by rain.
I like the wind that comes before, bringing dust and that smell with it. I like to stand on the terrace and squint into the haze of dust. It is exhilarating, that sense of being eye to eye with the elements. Then the lightning is my servant and the rain is my cloak. I was there tonight on the terrace, with Thor beside me. He nuzzled the back of my knee, leaving occasionally to chase the dust-devils whirling in the corners, buoyed by sporadic gusts. Then the rain came, and he left, only pausing to ogle a passing cat.