In October of 2011, a group of tango dancers were gathered in a Taos studio for an intensive weekend of instruction.  Two instructors from Buenos Aires - Carolina and Donato - were in the middle of an afternoon session when suddenly all of us (numbering twenty of so) rushed to the west windows.  I remember the teachers saying "What is happening?"  They could not imagine what had distracted us, causing such an abrupt bolt from the floor.  One of the group said "It's raining!"  They thought we were nuts and wanted to get back to explaining some tango move or sequence.  I don't remember what that was, but we all knew.  In New Mexico, rain is a spectator sport.  When you hear rain, you go to a window to look or head outside to feel and smell it.  It is both a hazard and joy of living in a place where moisture is sparse compared to many parts of the world.  

Late last week, pieces of a category 1 hurricane named Lorena was in the right place at the right time off of Baja, California, to eventually yield moisture in New Mexico.  I thought back on that day during the middle of the tango lesson when we all marveled at the rain.  I still do.  With this week's storm, some parts of the state had heavy damaging rains, while those of us in south Santa Fe had significant and steady rain.  In the case of steady rain without flooding or damage, the morning after the rain is another joy.  The smell of it hits first, filled with earth, bark, leaves, and all growing things.  A deep breath of it is primitive and nourishing.  After the smell, the remnants are there for the taking, by birds and insects as small as a gnat and hummingbird, and mammals who draw down puddles and basins, and by photographers like me.  I cannot resist.  Couple that with the sky being totally washed of dust and pollen and all pollutants, one wonders whether the sky has ever been that clear before.  Of course, the early autumn light is spectacular.  Here are some results of my obsession with rain.  

 Every surface was wet.  Colors are different and shapes of things seem to alter, as is the case with the sheen and uninhibited river rocks shown below.  

after the rain 2 2025

The Zauschneria or hummingbird trumpet here sheds the water much more quickly than other flowers, but that did not keep the hummingbirds' needle beaks from getting inside.  They lift the trumpets in order to feed in a more level position.  No photographs of them this year, but perhaps next.  

after the rain 6 2025
 

Rose petals and stems are perfect collectors of water droplets, as shown in the next two photographs. 

  after the rain 3 2025

after the rain 5 2025

Even the sepals of the rose are saturated enough to appear furry.  

after the rain 4 2025
 

But I do love the reflective power of water droplets on rose branches.  Both thorns and leaves seem to merge into the drops.  

after the rain 1 2025  

If rain falls where you live this week, may it be civilized!

Thank you Tim, Catherine, Marilyn G., Barbara F. R., Ann A., and Steve for writing this week!

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image©