There’s just something about Oxford after it rains. I noticed it a few weeks ago while walking down High Street toward the bridge. You’re not allowed to be a building on that street unless you’re at least 200 years old, and most are older. So the stone, accustomed to being pelted and worn by this insane island weather, reflects the sun so brightly after a rain I have to squint in order to make out the shape of one of the old college’s spires or the tower of St. Mary’s Cathedral. Everything is really beautiful and glittery, as if it’s grateful for the cloud-clearing no matter how brief the cloud-clearing may be.
While being perpetually damp is not my state of choice, I have grown, like the ancient stone on High Street, more grateful for warmth and sun than I ever thought possible and if a solid 24 hours of rain is required for me to appreciate something so forgotten as that, then the wet is worth it. I suppose all good things come at a cost.