It’s not summer yet but we’ve had summer rain today: warm, drenching but not violent. All the plants and the earth respond with a scent of freshness, fragrant, bringing with it distant fields; and memories, and the longings which those remembered experiences evoked: then, and now as they return in the dusk. They tease with a hint of something not here. Yet now.
Summer rain, in May. Aches and pains remain. But there is a certainty in the yearning. In the summer rain.