“What is it?" I asked. "Rain," she said. "It's too early for rain." "That's what you think. Open the door. You'll see." I turned off the air conditioner so that we could hear better, slid open the glass door -- and the soft thunder of rain falling onto sand curtained us in. Deaf, we would still have known it was raining: smell would have told us; the smell of dry earth watered, of dehydrated vegetation reconstituted, the smell of resurrection. The first rain in a dry land! It smells better than lilies in July, or the ocean, or the wind in sun-warmed pines, or the irrigated patch of alfalfa you reach after a long haul through dry hills. It is hard to smell that sweetness and believe in death.” DeathRainLiliesSense Of SmellSmell Of RainPinesAlfalfaDesert RainDry HillsEarly Rain Book:A Matter of Time Source: A Matter of Time