Rain has come and gone, filling the darkness with sound and scent. The clouds remain, so there might be more. Even this small bit has been a relief, soaked up by the dry ground to reprieve the grassy fields, releasing dank odors and the sharp fragrance of pine. I turned out the lights and listened to it for a while, and breathed the cool drafts blown in by gusty wind. After the rain stopped, a rent in the clouds permitted the half moon to light the spangled plants and make the pavements gleam for a while. Now, the clouds themselves emerge in the early light, a drifting roof of variegated gray. The crickets continue to chirp from their damp beds, even as the first birds join them in song. The grass will remain green for a few more days, at least.
The little purple flowers of the sourgrass begin to open as the sun emerges. A while later, another mass of cloud drags its shade across the land and the flowers close up again. This has been going on all afternoon. The sunlit times are astonishingly bright, and the cloudy times make dark threats of storm, but no more rain has fallen. But even the days darkest clouds are edged with brilliant white. It is all splendidly moody and pleasantly cool. This is perfect spring weather, and there has been too little of it this year. I don't even care of the rain splits the ripening cherries open. It's worth it just to see this moody sky and those great swaths of light and shadow sweeping the rumpled mountainsides.