Although the sun hadn’t yet risen at 6:00 this morning, there was enough light for me to see the back patio through the sliding glass door. It was wet. I couldn’t detect any rain coming down, so when I stepped outside with my little dog, I was surprised to feel the soft drizzle on my face. 

It was a safe bet that I should throw on some clothes and take the pupper for a walk, if we were to get ahead of the heavy storm. But I don’t move so fast in the early hours of the day. As I sat at my desk drinking coffee and checking the headlines, raindrops began to drum upon the roof.

Before I finished getting dressed, there was a deluge so fierce I thought it was hail. By the time my fluffy partner and I had our raincoats on, the rain had decreased to a steady patter. 

The wind was gusting, however. Holding the leash for my energetic furry sprinter, while trying to keep the umbrella from blowing inside-out, was a challenge. Through it all, my poodle-mix pup was a trooper, setting a jaunty pace as he strutted along the sidewalk. He didn’t linger to smell his favorite rocks and plants, as we made our way to the neighborhood park. But about every 20 feet, he would stop suddenly to shake the water off himself. It was kind of amusing, since he was soaking wet, and the rain was not letting up. 

Although we like to stay on the pavement most of the way, my scruffy buddy and I enjoy venturing onto the park’s vast lawn. Today, he preferred to get off the path and tug me along through the field of grass. Since the rate of rainfall had increased significantly, I was all in favor of taking this shortcut.

The downpour began in earnest when we were about two blocks from home. We were relieved, when we stepped into the foyer of the house. Somewhat impatiently, the dog allowed me to remove his harness and soggy coat. He was content to let me towel dry his curly-topped head but watched me warily as I dried his feet. 

As soon as I finished the fourth paw, he took off down the hall, ran across the living room, and finished his zoomies with a dramatic leap onto the sofa. Then he busily rearranged his fleecy white blanket. When it was perfect, he plopped himself into the center of it.

Walking in the rain doesn’t bother me much. Good waterproof boots and a decent coat are critical. In fact, since my mid-January research trip to London and Paris, I even own a properly rain-resistant winter coat. Still, if my resolute companion weren’t so insistent about his daily expedition, I’d stay happily indoors.

Our quiet community streets just don’t hold the same kind of magic as the thoroughfares of a metropolitan city like Manhattan.

When I travel, the incentive to be exploring far outweighs any concerns for personal comfort. The enchantment of York’s snickelways is enhanced when the cobblestones glisten with moisture.

And the sentries at the Horse Guards in London are on duty no matter what the weather. On a rainy day, the underexposed shadows in my photographs may obscure the gallant soldiers, but there are no crowds to block my view, as I stand at the opposite corner on Whitehall.

The dog and I aren’t planning any more walks around the neighborhood today. But between now and moonrise, we’ll make a few short trips out the back door to our garden. 

There’s a good chance that we’ll find a bit of magic right here at home.