These sounds, recorded from the next hill over from the one I live on, are what I’ve been hearing for the past month or so. They are the harbingers of the rainy season, which started tonight. I can see lightning flashing from the glass walls to the left and in front of my bed, hear the thunder rolling around the lake, smell the petrichor in the air, feel the slight spray through the screen of the one sliding glass door I can’t stand to close. Those of us who live here year round love the rainy season. The relief from both the dry heat and the crowds. Tonight I will breathe easy in the fresh air.
A few years ago, Forgottenman was here for the start of the rainy season and THIS is what he had to say about it.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Petrichor! Mmmmm!
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Hah! My thought exactly! It’s such fun to read Judy’s work, if only for the new words!
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Oops — it’s getting late! There are lots of other reasons that your work is such fun — not only the new words!
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And no calories.
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A wonderful multidimensional picture of the beginning of your rainy season. How long does your rainy season last? No wonder sleep has been difficult, with that rhythmic song all night — an interesting rhythm that I would guess comes about by overlaid but differential rhythms of the individuals. I remember driving the Blue Ridge Mtns and wondering what that sound was — like wind through high tension wires! And I love that smell of the petrichor! Sleep well!
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Oops.. my answer to you got erased, Janet! The rainy season lasts June through August. Sometimes longer. I thought exactly the same thing about the rainbirds.. I thought it was the humming of the wires and told our real estate agent I couldn’t buy this house because I couldn’t stand that sound! Glad she educated me.
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I’m glad you had a realtor who could educate you so you could buy your house! It would have been difficult to find another like it without the rainbirds! I imagine you get used to the sound each year, and the rain must mute it somewhat!
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Once it rains, they disappear..Forgottenman wants me to write a poem about where they go. Thinking about it.
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Hmmm — I wonder if there’s some sort of purgatory, somewhere in the center of the earth! I think you should write that poem with your thoughts about where they go!
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Magical
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