It’s been a wet May. Today is too drippy to walk, but a few days ago I slipped between the raindrops and strolled through a moist and fragrant landscape. It was the ordinary world silvered into a new state of being.

Every broad leaf or outstretched bough held on its surface gleaming drops of rainwater. I had fun trying to photograph them. I was never able to capture their freshness or fragility, their glitter or gleam. What seemed like diamonds now look like water spots.

I have no illusions of photographic greatness. But snapshots jog the memory. When I look at the pictures I snapped that damp Thursday, I remember the freshness of the morning, the quicksilver beading of the raindrops, the whole sensory experience of the walk. And that’s the point of it all.