I just went outside to throw the garbage out. It smells like rain. That happens here about twice a year. It seems funny. In a city that gets so much rain, it almost never smells like it. It's one of the things I miss most about home; the smell of rain. That dry dust, creosote-spiced, heated-asphalt smell of rain.
Maybe because it's been awhile since it's rained; maybe because this crazy, warm summer has baked our fair city into a dried out, husk of itself. Whatever the reason, it's lovely.
And it's just like it happens in Arizona. It clearly hasn't rained at my house, but it's coming. You can smell it on the wind just like you can smell the summer monsoon, moving through the desert, heading your way.