My first June rain in West Africa; it is cooling, it smells lovely and dewy and fresh. It is cleansing and soul strengthening. It comes through my new thatch roof that I fought so boldly for and soaks my bed. Damn it.
The breeze that preceded it was spectatular. I haven’t felt that satisified by weather since Dad and I went to the Sangre de Cristos in High School.
The coolness released some of my pent-up inner heat. Thank god.
Then with the end of the rain, which is inevitable, especially early in the rainy season, comes the sudden and squelching humidity. The moist-heat-drench that dampens even unpenetrated clothing, wets pillows safely stowed in trunks, it curls photographs and letters and hair. The flies wake up, with their pestering mosquito friends, hungry and fearless.
I WANT CHIPS AND SALSA AND GUACAMOLE AND QUESO AND A DR. PEPPER WITH A LIME.
The sweet things, though they come, are too few and far between to sustain me.
(sigh) to eat queso and pico de gallo laiden quesadillas with Janna, APV, Lauren, Ryan and Patrick Dentler… heaven.