The gardener is engrossed, cutting, pulling, tending, bending down in the border, a twinge of back pain, pondering plants for gaps, what to cook for dinner later, what to do in the garden tomorrow. A few spits and splodges of rain hit the curved back and the gardener hardly notices, a few more drops later and the gardener thinks it is lucky the weeding was chosen over the mowing as the task for the afternoon. Once the gardener is slightly damp she looks up and considers fetching waterproof clothing and continuing but considers the shower will almost certainly pass and a few minutes later she is damp enough that the waterproofs would be pointless. It’s only a bit of rain anyway. Soon the rain is dribbling through her hair along her scalp, down her forehead and off her nose. She swipes away drops and looks around, straightening from her task, smiling.