Ah....! That sound

[pecunium]

It's raining. The whiskery bustle of drops on the canopy of leaves. The smell of it a balm to the soul. I've lived for most of the past thirty years in the desert, or semi-deserts of the Soutwest. The smell of rain is a visceral pleasure. Something I pause to drink in, even when it's a note on the wind.

The sky was very dark, and as the gutters start to run the clouds have lightened. The air in my open window is getting cold.

To make it complete it has the one thing which so rarely combines with rain in Calif., thunder.

I could go back to sleep and be as a child again.