Rain enforces a soggy humility, reminding us that we are not in charge. “Rain or shine,” we bravely declare, and in a few cases we actually make good on that promise.

And wet it was this weekend, when remnants of tropical storm Nicole blasted the Island. This storm will be remembered not so much for the quantity of its rainfall as for the way it drove oak leaves down from the trees into a damp, brown matting that covered everything. And unlike rainwater, which eventually drains away, the oak leaves just lay there, sullen in the way that only damp, brown things can be, awaiting the day when we get out the rakes and do something about them.

Open burning of leaves is frowned upon nowadays, so ours will apparently be the last generation for whom the aroma of bonfires is deeply associated with autumn. When this year’s leaves in our yard finally dry, it will be time to deal with them in the modern fashion, packing scores of bags and hauling them to the landfill, whose predominant aroma we’d rather not associate with any particular season.