If you can walk between the raindrops, or at least between the downpours, there isn't anything sweeter than the smell of the woods in the spring rain. And rain, it has.
If I were to be dropped here blindfolded, in this wood full of tall pines, I'd like to think I'd know it by the smell.
Something else came home with me last weekend.
... a lovely Forrester, one of his pyroglyphs.