They say it never rains but it pours, and although it’s a phrase not necessarily intended to describe actual weather, it certainly applies to the pattern of rainfall in Sydney. Two days ago I planted a small shrub to fill a hole in a garden that is suffering extreme dryness, and within a few hours it started bucketing down so heavily that I couldn’t hear myself think for the sound of rain on the tin roof. It has been relentless, and now everything is damp and soggy. I love the rain, and I love the way it transforms the world around me so that transitory patterns emerge, like this stand of lights reflected in a puddle on tarmac.

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