The storm was confined largely to the ridge and mountains, so the western sky remained bright and the declining of the sun provided several minutes of back-lit sun showers. The dark pavements mirrored the clouds and sparkled with tiny splashes. A surprisingly soft wind arose as the storm ended, and the clouds dissipated rather than being blown away.
Now the sky is mostly clear, and the waxing crescent moon has only lately begun its descent from meridian. The cool air is dense with the scent of wet wood and grass and soil, and the chorus of frogs has begun to sing. Stars are emerging. Best of all, the pollen is too wet to become airborne. I anticipate a delightful night.