Rain this morning. It smells of Heaven. Or how Heaven would smell, were I in charge. That doesn’t feel blasphemous, but it sounds as if it might be. Reminder to self: Enquire of Hawkes. Come to think of it, I’ve never looked into the theological record of what canonical scripture supposes the scent of Heaven to be. Wet earth? Fresh grass? Both of which make up the transcendent aroma of rain. I rest my case.
