I love those summer weeks when we wake to thunder and lightning, only to eat lunch under a bright blue sky. By 5 p.m. the sky is bruised again, and the rain comes down for long enough to wash the chalk art off the pavement. When evening sets in, our gardens are lush and lilac-hued; we breathe in that beautiful petrichor like it’s a prayer. Drizzle, sun, deluge, thunder, drizzle, sun, lightning, deluge, sun. A million moods in a day. A million moods in a week.