If there exists a more vital scent than that of prairie sagebrush in the after-rain, I don’t know it. The scent is pervasive and sharp in the same way the call of a western meadowlark is pervasive and sharp. Sage from end to end. Standing just outside my house, I draw in sage-scented air, exhale.
The front door is half-open behind me.
We have needed rain. Here in the rain shadow, we almost always need rain.
As I stand outside, drawing in fresh air, 20 pounds of housecat pads out the half open door to join me. The cat rubs his cheek and flank against my leg.
He looks up. I look down.
“Good morning,” I say. “We have another week ahead of us. I hope you are ready.”