I prefer to sit on my back porch listening to to the rain fall to the earth in torrents, but that kind of gullywasher is usually not common in the City of Light. In Paris, it falls as a misty spray most of the time. Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.

So that’s what I did on this rainy morning in Paris. Most people rush to the subway or the bus to avoid the rain. But I embrace it. I seek it.

This tree in Parc Monceau looks so much happier in the rain. I want to hug it.

The park looks deserted by creatures of the human persuasion, but looks can be deceiving. A few would still rather walk in the rain than ride the bus or metro. I can’t say that I blame them.

This tree still thinks it’s autumn, all decked out in its orange foliage. That’s ok. It’s allowed.

The gal with the yellow umbrella added a little color to the grey tableau. This would be such a sad, sad city if it were not for the trees.

All winter long, this deciduous tree along the route refused to give up the last of her leaves and held onto them throughout the season.

Even the unfortunate trees who inhabit Champs-Elysées look as though they can breathe a little more easily when it rains.

It only takes the rain to remove the weight of the city from my soul.