Vancouver Rain

The scent of petrichor is one I’ve long forgotten since moving to California —

I crouch low to hear the toads gossip by the pond, their voices thick as fog in the damp air. I want to enter those fairytale kingdoms, slipping through tiny doors at the bottom of old tree trunks. I gently scold the geese off the tennis courts — they’ve no arms to swing a racket after all. By the riverside, otters duel with reeds as blades. A playful tussle over treasure hoards of juniper berry. Grey storks stretch their wings to bid me goodbye. They are done with their fishermen duties for today.

Oh did I say? It’s a really rainy day in Vancouver.