It rained on my afternoon off.

When I got home, I thunked my library books on the counter and kicked off my shoes. 

Dingy grey light seeped through the curtains.

So I went back outside.

I watched the rain roll off the bricks and the wrought iron stairwells.  I met a neighbor, and we watched fat droplets fall against the stairs and splash back up like fountains. I saw a plastic chair nestled in the shadows beneath the stairwell. Puddles collected in the grass and grew ripples, as the rain beat against the eaves and the pavement.

Someone's charcoal grill was drowning, and puddles rippled around its rusted feet.

My hood slipped off my head, and the raindrops found their way onto my neck, behind my glasses and onto my eyelashes, through my hair and onto my scalp.  They rolled liked little rivers off my bangs, and my hair curled.

When has rain helped you to see something you never noticed before? When has a rainy afternoon turned out to be better than what you had planned?