" Come on, Marjorie and Anna! The storm's coming!" Mymother always loved to watch the storms roll in. She said memories of watchingstorms with her father would rush into her head as she watched them with mysister and me. I remember those days so clearly, when we would all sit on ourporch swing and watch the clouds slowly overcome the bright blue sky.

Awayin the distance, above the tree line on the horizon, I could see a sporadic flashof light, distant and faint, but visible nevertheless. Following the flash, softthunder could be heard far off. My mom and I would watch for the lightning andthen count: "one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand"until the thunder roared. Then we could decide exactly how far away the stormwas. "Three miles," Mom would say. My sister and I would nod,confirming her speculation.

She always told us she could smell the raincoming, but it wasn't until a few years ago that I noticed rain truly does have ascent. All I knew was that on a day a storm was coming, my hair would spring intotiny ringlets.

"There must be a storm coming," my grandma wouldsay, grabbing a curl, pulling the hair straight, and then watching it bounce backinto place. I don't think my sister and I ever lasted long enough to smell therain approaching, for as soon as the clouds began to cover our neighborhood, thetwo of us would run inside screaming.

My mom, on the other hand, would siton the porch until the rain came down so hard it splattered her. From inside, mysister and I would just listen. The rain would start with a soft pitter-patter onour roof. Our dog would disappear, but we knew she was only hiding under my dad'sdesk, just as she did every time a storm came. Then the lightning would get soclose that the whole sky would light up, making everything turn an eerie glowinggreen. Immediately afterward, the thunder would roar, and the entire house wouldshake. It seemed as though even the pictures on the wall would rattle. Then thestorm would regress, and the rain would come down softer and softer; thelightning would get less and less bright, and the thunder would quiet as the gapbetween the lightning and thunder grew. My sister and I would run outside again,anxious to look for the sun so that we might see a rainbow. Rarely did we see agood one, but we always looked.

It was after one storm that I realizedrain has a smell. There was a moisture in the air, a new, clean fragrance. Aftera few years, I began to notice that the scent of rain not only came after thestorm, but could indeed be smelled before the storm.

Looking around at theearth after a storm, everything seems to come to life again. Every living thinglooks refreshed and full of new beginnings. Take a deep breath and, yes, it'strue, the earth smells different. What does it mean? That tomorrow all of naturewill be even more beautiful than today