|Where I ride there are places like this|
I bottom out in the low point and start to ride up the small rise on the other side, when it hits me: the post rain perfume of a non-cold desert night, the plants all open and happily full of water, the creosote in particular completely exuberant in their exuding exhaling of mysterious scent of desert. I spin around and go back, point my bike upstream, and close my eyes. Inhale. Hold it in. Exhale. Breathe. It's cool and it's warm at the same moment. There are so many different perfumes and odors assaulting and caressing my sense of scent that it is overwhelmed: after-rain, and a hundred different plants, and something like coyote or other animal that scampers by, flowers just blooming, trees, cactii, wet rocks, damp earth, washed pavement, moldy leaves, apples and why would that be, or citrus yes washed down in the last rain from a yard uphill, and others I don't know just on the edge of almost-smelling.
I stopped by the arroyo at night, and let some of its perfumes tickle my brain and seed my memory as they also winnowed it. A photo with my light on the rocks. Maybe the best moment for me of this day, and that might mean it was kind of a great day.