“A great crack of thunder tore through the sky, unleashing a torrent of hot rain. Of course we smelled it before it arrived. The air became cooler, and the wind picked up the fragrance of the pavement and the rows of corn beyond the chain-link fence. Even as children we knew, as if we were animals, the shifts and sensations that signaled an approaching summer storm. The cool air always comes first, then the unmistakable scent of petrichor mixed with something more earthy and green. What begins as a dark mass at a distance quickly reveals itself as an ominous gathering of distinct clouds made purple and turgid from the thick moisture of the gluttonous summer heat.”
Private commission based on the above text by Roxanne Gentry, used with permission.