A mixture of plant oils, bacterial spores and ozone is responsible for the powerful scent of fresh rain. Image via Wikimedia Commons/Juni
Step outside after the first storm after a dry spell and it
invariably hits you: the sweet, fresh, powerfully evocative smell of
fresh rain.
If you’ve ever noticed this mysterious scent and wondered what’s responsible for it, you’re not alone.
Back in 1964, a pair of Australian scientists (Isabel Joy Bear and R.
G. Thomas) began the scientific study of rain’s aroma in earnest with an article in Nature titled “Nature of Agrillaceous Odor.” In it, they coined the term petrichor to help explain the phenomenon, combining a pair of Greek roots: petra (stone) and ichor (the blood of gods in ancient myth).
In that study and subsequent research,
they determined that one of the main causes of this distinctive smell
is a blend of oils secreted by some plants during arid periods. When a
rainstorm comes after a drought, compounds from the oils—which
accumulate over time in dry rocks and soil—are mixed and released into
the air. The duo also observed that the oils inhibit seed germination,
and speculated that plants produce them to limit competition for scarce
water supplies during dry times.
These airborne oils combine with other compounds to produce the
smell. In moist, forested areas in particular, a common substance is geosmin, a chemical produced by a soil-dwelling bacteria known as actinomycetes.
The bacteria secrete the compound when they produce spores, then the
force of rain landing on the ground sends these spores up into the air,
and the moist air conveys the chemical into our noses.
“It’s a very pleasant aroma, sort of a musky smell,” soil specialist Bill Ypsilantis told NPR during an interview on the topic. “You’ll also smell that when you are in your garden and you’re turning over your soil.”
Because these bacteria thrive in wet conditions and produce spores
during dry spells, the smell of geosmin is often most pronounced when it
rains for the first time in a while, because the largest supply of
spores has collected in the soil. Studies have revealed that the human
nose is extremely sensitive to geosmin in particular—some people can
detect it at concentrations as low as 5 parts per trillion. (Coincidentally, it’s also responsible for the distinctively earthy taste in beets.)
Ozone—O3, the
molecule made up of three oxygen atoms bonded together—also plays a
role in the smell, especially after thunderstorms. A lightning bolt’s
electrical charge can split oxygen and nitrogen molecules in the
atmosphere, and they often recombine into nitric oxide
(NO), which then interacts with other chemicals in the atmosphere to
produce ozone. Sometimes, you can even smell ozone in the air (it has a
sharp scent reminiscent of chlorine) before a storm arrives because it
can be carried over long distances from high altitudes.
But apart from the specific chemicals responsible, there’s also the
deeper question of why we find the smell of rain pleasant in the first
place. Some scientists have speculated that it’s a product of evolution.
Anthropologist Diana Young of the University of Queensland in Australia, for example, who studied the culture of Western Australia’s Pitjantjatjara people, has observed
that they associate the smell of rain with the color green, hinting at
the deep-seated link between a season’s first rain and the expectation
of growth and associated game animals, both crucial for their diet. She
calls this “cultural synesthesia”—the blending of different sensory
experiences on a society-wide scale due to evolutionary history.
It’s not a major leap to imagine how other cultures might similarly
have positive associations of rain embedded in their collective
consciousness—humans around the world, after all, require either plants
or animals to eat, and both are more plentiful in rainy times than
during drought. If this hypothesis is correct, then the next time you
relish the scent of fresh rain, think of it as a cultural imprint,
derived from your ancestors.
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