Summer rain

I used to love the smell of rain on hot sidewalks when I was a kid. I remember how it smelled when thunderstorms rolled through the neighborhood on hot summer days, sending me and my friends scurrying for shelter under the blue-and-white-striped canvas awning that covered our postage-stamp sized front porch. I remember how the temperature would drop precipitously, chilling our rain-wet skin, causing us to shiver moments after we'd been hot and sweaty in the midst of a game of hopscotch or jump rope. I remember how scary the lightening and thunder seemed, especially since we refused to go inside the house, choosing to stay outside, a bit closer to the swiftly passing storm. Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, the storm would move away, and the day would return to its normal, hot, sunny, summer self.

As we'd emerge from the safety of that awning, I would drink in the smell of the rain on the still-hot sidewalk, a smell I've always loved.

Uncharacteristically, it's rained here in Portland, OR for the past few days (yeah, I know, it rains all the time in Portland, except in summer, usually), and that much-loved smell of rain on hot sidewalks has returned to my life, albeit briefly. I thought about trying to find a set of jacks (another one of our traditional summer pastimes back in the day) but thought better of it, opting to enjoy the smells and memories instead.