There was an explosion in the garden.
It doesn't happen all that often; when it does, gardeners are rewarded.
The trees are greener.
The crepe myrtle put out a few new blooms.
The stink bugs were washed off the rosemary and all but the most tenacious of the cochneal scale
(the white spots, which are used as a red dye) were rinsed off the Opuntiai's paddles.
And, in the containers, the roses came out for one last hurrah
and the ignored basket was able to recoup some of its losses.
The people may have been grumpy, but the flora are very grateful for that long, slow, steady soaking.