The Smell of Rain

Last Monday, we decided we were going to walk the perimeter of the estate. But alas, that little grey cloud that did not look at all threatening, decided we should not take that walk.
Half way up the road, the drops started, my kids and I, we looked at each other and sighed.
They were on wheels so they rushed back. I was on foot but I decided not to rush.
What's a little wet, most of all I wanted to smell the rain.
From my earliest years, this is one of the moments I  replay in my head, I have always enjoyed the smell of rain.  I look up into the endless sky like I did since the land before time, but still 'I cannot see where the rain starts from'.

Sometimes before it reaches us, I can get the scent of it and look forward to its' arrival.
It brings to mind memories of playing carefree in the garden, the field, of netball days, watching the rain from my childhood home window, images of wet green leaves fluttering from the drops.
I can't really pinpoint what it does for my senses - the clean air or the cleaning process, the grey sky,  the torrential sound and then the stillness after the rain.
Perhaps it's the nostalgia that connects it; after all rain has been a constant throughout my life.