Spring Rain

My memories are triggered by certain scents, and the images explode in my brain for a mila-second taking me back to the place and even giving me back the feelings for a brief moment. I love spring rain. It takes me back to seasons of little league baseball coached by my Mom. Greening grass, bright yellow dandelions, red clay and dirt. I can even remember looking through the dugout fence to see what girls were in the stands, wondering if I was going to get a hit.
I grasp a sense of peace in the spring rains. Even though I may have to work inside, I remember getting poured on turkey hunting up in Hayden Creek with my Dad, seeking shelter from an old cedar tree. I remember fishing in Mockins bay with my brother Josh, the night he caught three very large bass. I catch glimpses of faces, landscapes, and even shades of light. And If I think hard enough about it, I even can remember the smell.