There were puddles beside the road and the leaves were gleaming from last night's dousing. We've been humid for days, but rain-fed humidity is different somehow, less oppressive, cleaner.
It wasn't until the end of the stroll that I saw the second-hand rain. A brisk breeze was stirring the high branches of the oaks and sending down a spray of drops that caught the sun and shone there. It was last night's precipitation recycled beautifully in the morning light. I walked through it as if through an illuminated mist.
It was a beautiful way to start the day. But now I'm dashing inside from moment to moment trying to dodge the second-hand rain ... which is landing lightly on my computer keyboard as I try to write this post.