Yearning for Petrichor

tanjabrittonwriter 47 Comments

The mere fact that such an aspirational noun was invented to describe the odour of dry earth freshly kissed by rain tells me that this aroma is pleasing to us humans. In order to appreciate it, I do not necessarily have to know that it is caused by volatile oils exuded by plants, and by geosmin, volatile organic compounds created by soil-dwelling bacteria (the word geosmin also means smell of the earth).

But I find it fascinating that the term harkens back to Greek mythology, where ichor was the equivalent of blood flowing through the immortal bodies of the gods. So, literally and figuratively, petrichor is the life force flowing through rock or stone (borrowed from Greek, from pétrā “rocky cliff, cave, detached mass of rock, stone,” and pétros “boulder, stone,” according to Merriam-Webster).

I don’t know what motivated the scientists to explain this olfactory phenomenon known to humankind since time immemorial, but the term was introduced by Australian researchers Isabel Joy Bear and Richard Grenfell Thomas in a 1964 paper in Nature.

What I do know is that during periods of drought, such as the one the American West has been experiencing off and on for twenty-plus years, every cell of the body and every fiber of one’s being thirsts for rain, longs for rain, aches for rain, and, at times, screams for rain. We expectantly direct our gaze to the sky, will clouds into being, watch them gather and grow, only to dissipate in mid-air, or empty themselves in sheets of virga—rain that does not reach the ground.

The relief and joy when those droplets do reach the ground are visceral. When the longed-for scent of petrichor tickles the olfactory receptors that line our noses and sends action potentials along the olfactory nerve to various parts of the brain, we take deeper breaths, break out in smiles or even into dance, under the wonderful, wet droplets of hydrogen and oxygen that spell momentary respite from drought.

We rejoice when we look out from our home across the wet street (featured photo above), or when the water starts to pool on our walkway.

Cobwebs made visible by water droplets.

For a brief period, grass that looked brown and dead only yesterday suggests a hint of greenness, plants that have stayed alive only thanks to the garden hose perk up, spiderwebs suddenly shimmer and sparkle, and water droplets bejewel leaves and petals of flowers.

Roses bedecked with jewelry.

Petrichor—I yearn for more!

47 thoughts on “Yearning for Petrichor”

  1. Ja, ich richte schon eine Weile jeden MOrgen erwartungsvoll den Blick in den Himmel, hoffnungsvoll auf REgen wartend. Ich schaue ständig in die Wetter App, das ist die moderne Variante von warten auf den Regen. Auch wir haben eine Dürre und meine Angst vor einem Waldbrand ist groß. Deine Gedanken, Deine Worte in diesem Artikel sind wunderbar. Ich freue mich auf den Geruch von frischem Regen auf die ausgedörrte Erde, scheint so, als müßte ich heute noch vergeblich darauf warten.
    LG MAren

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  5. Das Kunstmärchen „Die Regentrude“ von Theodor Storm aus dem Jahr 1864 erzählt von einer schweren Dürrekatastrophe auf dem Land. Weil die Menschen die alte Wassergöttin (die Regentrude) vergessen haben und nicht mehr an sie glauben, ist sie tief eingeschlafen. Zwei junge Leute, Maren und Andrees, machen sich auf den Weg, um sie zu wecken, den bösen Feuermann zu überlisten und den rettenden Regen zurückzubringen.

    Vielleicht kennst du das Märchen.
    Hier ist die Regentrude aufgewacht.
    Es regnet zwar nur ein bisschen, aber immerhin und es kühl und erfrischend.

    Danke für deinen feinen Beitrag liebe Tanja.

    Liebe Grüße Brigitte

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    • Dunst ist die Welle,
      Staub ist die Quelle!
      Stumm sind die Wälder,
      Feuermann tanzet über die Felder!
      Nimm dich in acht!
      Eh du erwacht,
      Holt dich die Mutter
      Heim in die Nacht!

      Der Zauberspruch.

      Vielleicht müssen wir ihn jetzt öfter mal aufsagen ☔️

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    • Ich danke Dir für Deinen netten Kommentar, liebe Brigitte.

      Von Theodor Storms Regentrude hatte ich noch nicht gehört, doch ich hoffe mit Dir, daß wir sie mit dem Zauberspruch aufwecken und den bösen Feuermann überlisten können. Zumindest dort, wo wir dringend Regen benötigen. Leider gibt es ja auch Gegenden, wo sich zu viel des Regens aus den Wolken entlädt.

      Ob es uns wohl gelingen wird, den Zauberspruch für genau die richtigen Regenmengen zu finden?

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  7. Your post could not have been better timed, Tanja! Here the heatwave has been relentless, we’re officially in drought mode and various parts of the country have suffered unprecedented wildfires. But this morning we had a few splashes of rain. It didn’t last long and was not heavy; however there was just enough to release that welcome, wondrous aroma. It was a glorious smell, a smell that I now know – thanks to you – is called petrichor. I’ll never forget the word, and will always associate with you and your blog!

    The drought situation in the American West is obviously much more severe that here in the UK, and I’m saddened to think of its impact on people, wildlife and the landscape. I hope you get to enjoy a petrichor experience of your own very soon.

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    • I’m sorry to learn that your corner of the world is also suffering from drought and wildfires and I hope that more relief is on its way.

      It’s concerning and humbling that all the realities we have taken for granted all this time are no longer reliable.

      We are grateful for every rain shower and I’m happy to report that we have been blessed with a few since I scheduled this post a few weeks ago.

      If only there were a way to ensure neither drought nor flooding.

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  10. I’ve always loved the scent of wet soil after a rain and especially with the wet leaves on the ground in the fall. The cobwebs you’ve captured remind me of a necklace with tiny diamonds encrusted in it…beautiful, Tanja!💦

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  11. Hi, Mrs. Tanja-

    What a beautiful word! I had never heard the technical name before for this term, but I too love the smell of the earth after a fresh rain.
    Rain truly is such a gift! Thank you for this inspiring post!
    Blessings,

    Gavin

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  13. Hello Tanja, super cute🥰 this description, il love the odor of the rain and even more after it…. Make me want to say : Encore petrichor 🩷🩷🩷

    Isabelle ☀️

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  14. Interesting post! The word ‘petrichor’ translates to Spanish as ‘petricor’, eliminating the ‘h’. We have the worst drought in ten years! Thanks for explaining the term!

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    • Thank you, Julie, it really is a great word.
      And you are absolutely right about the rain. We have enjoyed a few bouts this last week with possibly more on its way. I’m keeping my fingers crossed!
      I wish you a pleasant weekend as well.

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  17. Like ‘virga,’ ‘petrichor’ is a word I’ve known, although I use it far less than virga. On the other hand, I’ve experienced the phenomenon, and your description of what it’s like to wait for rain — especially during an extended drought — is perfect. Our last serious drought was in 2011, and everyone who lived through it shudders just a bit when it’s mentioned. People understand that hurricanes, tornadoes, or freezes can be destructive, but drought is equally a disaster, albeit slower moving.

    It can take time to move out of drought, as well. When the 2011 drought began to ease, the first rain was nothing more than occasional drops. As the atmosphere moistened up, showers began to take place, and then actual days of rain. But even with those scattered drops, you could feel the human tension begin to ease.

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    • I don’t remember when I first learned about petrichor, but I think it must have been in some book or another. Our patience of waiting for it was sorely tested during this thirsty summer. As you describe, the relief, once the rains return, is palpable.

      We are very fortunate to have been blessed with several episodes of measurable rain since I first wrote this post (I scheduled it a few weeks ahead), but the long-term predictions about the mega-drought in the Southwest are not optimistic.

      Virga is a term that is regularly bandied about by our meteorologists and observable by the rest of us all too often. One sometimes even smells the humidity in those rain sheets, even if they don’t reach the ground. They also make me yearn for petrichor. 🙂

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  18. Das hast du sehr schön beschrieben und bebildert Tanja. Ich glaube alle, die Trockenheit kennengelernt haben, können das nachvollziehen. Auch ich liebe es, wenn endlich der Staub aus der Luft gewaschen wird und alles so schön frisch duftet. Wenn man die Erde riechen kann und die Luft ganz klar ist. Ich hoffe auch auf mehr Regen (ohne Überflutungen und nasse Keller). Das mit dem Petrichor habe ich jetzt noch mal in der Übersetzung gelesen. Sehr interessant! LG und dir weiterhin schönen erfrischenden Landregen 🙂 Almuth

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