Smells like rain

I would sit down with a coffee on my new parisian balcony and would read and tan under the sun. It was unusually hot, so I slowly started taking off more and more layers of clothes without shocking any neighbors or eventually finding myself on YouTube.

I got myself in "surrounding scent analysis mode" instead of paying attention to my moderately interesting new perfume book. It smelled just summer in the city. Heavy, dusty, fatty notes mixed with car pollution that my nose (mind?) translated into a rich, spicy-sweet carnation. 

I smelled thunder arriving soon, but I didn't expect actually and literally seeing it coming. Have you ever experienced watching heavy raining approaching while you are still standing a few meters away in the dry-zone? 
The smell of rain was arriving even faster, a beautifully earthy, unmistakable aroma as the fat drops harshly hit the dried sun-burnt soil. Powdery yet watery, dirty but still so clean... like lotus flowers with finely grated cloves.

Any summer rain is starting to be refreshing only after a few minutes, before that the humidity only accentuates the heat. This first minutes are the most interesting part for scent observation.
This is when a lovely jasmine flower suddenly has a rotten fruit side or a linden tree's widely spread aroma turns into a lazy marshmallow, just so that another few minutes or seconds later any facets of any fragrant molecules are washed away by what smells like watermelon with a touch of carrot.