Raindrops keep fallin'

The working title for today's entry was "Yet another reason to love grass," but I couldn't restrict myself to writing about grasses, since what got me excited was the aftermath of yesterday's rain. We had had off-and-on drizzle for several hours, and even with no rain falling, the air was so damp that raindrops were staying right where they landed, reminding me of a friend's description of her home in North Florida: "The air's so thick you can breathe through gills here."  But despite my general dislike of humidity, of which we have had more than enough this summer, rain on the grasses had me as happy as sunshine on my shoulders. (Note to universe: not on a daily basis, and not all year round.) Instead of having to drag hoses from the rain barrels and wonder if I should go in for sunscreen--but I won't be out that long--I was captivated by raindrops taking their own sweet time going wherever it is that raindrops go when they finally drop off of the things on which they've fallen.
The purple lovegrass had become an ankle-high purple mist,

totally different from the switchgrass growing behind it, tall plants on which the droplets seemed to dance, even with no breeze.

My beloved muhly grass has been rather a dud this year,only now forming the bunches that are its characteristic form, but with raindrops hanging along every stem, I forgave it this year's lack of growth.

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It wasn't only grasses providing temporary homes for tiny capsules of H2O. Jewelweed lived up to its name with fat, shimmering dots of water decorating every leaf.

And of course, physocarpus looks good wet or dry.