The cloudscape and showers left the scent of soil like a perfume on an old lady in the courthouse so strong it stays in your nostrils and hangs on your clothing long after you leave.
We drove around, the ladies snoring as the rain began pelting the van, and Max sharing a cover in the backseat with Vanilla, my mom's dog, who somehow manages to live at our home for half the day when his owners are away. It makes me smile to think that Vanilla even travels in the car with us on "drive-arounds". Because he just hops in the van with us and refuses to take "no" for an answer. I guess I admire his persistence.
As we drove and stopped to snap photos of clouds, Max suddenly exclaimed, "Mom, I know why I love Vanilla so much!"
"Because he's a PRIZE DOG!"
"Not really, Max. Vanilla is a lazy old lab who can't even go hunting because he makes too much noise...."
"No, Mom.... he's a prized dog. I prize him. So I love him. You see?"
Maybe the fact that we were driving around neigborhood loops accounts for Max's circular logic. All I know is that I've never seen anything that hollows me out and takes my breath away quite like the colors of a Southern thunderstorm, the red dirt, blue clouds, green grass, just wow.