The glistening rows of dew-drenched tea leaves greeted me with a warm "hello" in the morning breeze. As far as the eye could see, an endless array of tea plants stood in profuse abundance against the blazing blue sky. The air was laced with the fresh scent of summer rain, as well as an unmistakable sweetness unique to tea leaves; a tinge of bitterness complimenting the honey — bittersweet. I stood under the shade of an oak tree, relishing the dazzling panorama of the tea terraces, painted on a green canvas of luscious vegetation. The most striking feature of the scenery, however, was not the abundant greenery or the resplendence of the sun, but rather the fact that the sky was a strange color that I'd seldom seen these past few weeks — blue. You see, I was on vacation in Hangzhou, located in the Zhejiang province of China, the hometown of my parents. It is one of my favorite places in the world, and the city has even been described by explorer Marco Polo as "the most splendid heavenly city in the world". Yet, due to the massive amounts of industrial production and expansion within the Zhejiang province, the acrid hand of pollution perpetually paints the sky a melancholy gray — a single color, changeless for as long as I can remember. But just a few moments ago, the most wonderful change of all had manifested itself in the stunning radiance of a summer efflorescence. The monochrome burden of the gray skies suddenly gave way to an exuberant downpour of vitality, dropping their cinereous shades as one may release their bottled-up emotions. The departure of rain has left the skies with hues of singular effulgence. Cobalt. Cyan. Azure. This new canvas spreads across the heavens, and its splendor proceeds to cast away my doubts, worries, and fears. It is the beginning of a new day, and through the raindrops on the lens of my glasses, the sunlight appears iridescent.