It's always surprising how much comfort spring's first night rain instills at what feels like cellular levels. Such a stretch since light waves of tiny droplets from dark skies sweeping across the roof have stirred sympathetic waves of deep contentment. The drought, and all it doesn't bring, has been too long–spanning three previous seasons.
Stepping outside, aroma of nature's aerosols stirred into the air by the clean, cool pelting is as intoxicating as any good strain of erve can be. The wind is gentle and both warm and cool from the south, then from the west before gusting mightily from all directions at once, including blustery downdrafts. Conifers sigh in response. Patches of stars visible between sailing clouds appear and vanish. In the distance an owl hoots softly, possibly out of contentment too. A long, drawn-out breath in, then out. All the first night rain brings.
The wait has been worth it.