the smell of the morning air

Leaving the house at 6:25 this morning, I opened the door to a wall of humidity. Not a little humidity. A wall of dense air. The street was quiet, except for my resident House Wren, chattering away. The grass was so heavy with dew that it was bent over, droplets hanging from the tips. Already 69 degrees that early, the cars were covered, not with frost, as we have in winter, but with condensation. And the air smelled humid. It was thick air, clinging to your airways. With a hint of mildewing moisture.