The First Spring Rain

Odd how a man can forget about something like a season. The wind changed today, not in direction or strength but in attitude. I looked out this morning and saw that attitude coming. It was a light halo over the mountains. I could not put my finger on it right away. The air did not try to pull life from you, rather it gently kissed and enticed the hairs on your bare legs. The clouds settle in like a warm blanket and they are not noticed at first because they do not seem to be a discomfort. And then it comes. The sent of the air changes just as the sun sinks below the mountains. It is still hours off but subconsciously you know. Then late out night as you think about going to bed you notice that droplets on the window. You think it is snow and poke a conscious head out the door to see. The air is mild and welcoming and the gentle peck of a warm drop of water kissing your cheek makes you smile. You step out into the open air in the hopes of having another encounter with a beautiful rain drop. The smell of wet asphalt rises up to meet your nose and rain comes down. Light at first as if to prepare the world for what is to come. And slowly it builds and grows and washes away the months of dirt and grim that frozen water simple can do nothing about. The air fills with aromas awakened from their hibernation; the sweet decay of the fall leaves of years past, the rich fullness of good soil, the lightness of a grassy field, and the stinging sour of an old iron bridge. The world becomes alive with the pitter patter play of raindrops on the thankful ground. All of nature seems to give thanks for such a blessing. You linger longer than you normally would. Taking it all in you smile because you know that you will sleep warm and dry tonight and in the morning the world will have been washed clean ready for a new day and a new life. How could I have forgotten about something like Spring.