I was walking north past the wife's office, having just hitched a ride into town with youngest son, who was headed to work. And approaching one of the streetlight-controlled major intersections of town.

The skies were cloudy. The cool front they had promised us for yesterday had actually arrived on schedule, and was being a little slow about leaving.

Which is a good thing.

Actually started to sprinkle. Not enough to even cover the sidewalks, but there was moisture falling from the skies.

We had antelope dying of thirst in the desert last month. Dying in pump sheds for gas wells because that was the only shade for miles and miles around. We're talking record heat, and record dry here, folks.

So the clouds felt good. The smell of ozone in the air was good. The feel of water on my skin and clothes was good. I was not the least concerned about getting wet on my hike up to look over tomorrow's auction items.

And I wasn't the only one who felt so. As I stood at the corner waiting for the light to change, a car pulled up to turn at the corner, with a man in the passenger's seat. Typical oil field worker-type, well tanned, in sleeve-less shirt and ball cap. Probably in his thirties.

With his arm and hand out the window, trying to catch any raindrop he could.

Feeling that moisture on his skin, just as I was.

As the driver hesitated before making his turn, the passenger caught my eye.

Feels good doesn't it? I asked this stranger.

"Yes, it does," he responded.

And we each went our own way.

Naturally, no real moisture out of the clouds. At all. But it felt good. A nice tease.

Sometimes teasing is a good thing.

Real rain would be better.