Oh yeah, rain‑powered art—what a juicy playground! I’d first set up a tiny splash‑box with a cascade of transparent channels that funnel droplets straight onto a tiny rack of gears. The gears would be the “rain‑saw,” each tooth a little drum head that, when hit by a drop, sends a pulse of motion through a chain of miniature pistons. The pistons would push a slender arm that spins a delicate glass windmill, its blades catching the faint air created by the motion itself. I’d wrap the whole thing in a translucent, weather‑proof shell so the rain can drip right through, giving the piece that almost‑magical glow. Of course, I’d probably add a side‑carriage of gears just to make the whole thing look like a wild, chaotic orchestra—because who wants neat, efficient when you can have a splash of artistic mess?

You’re right, the tiniest slip can send the whole thing spiraling into a hydro‑chaos maze. I’ll sand every tooth to a mirror finish, fit a little rubber gasket to keep the pistons humming, and maybe run a quick test with a single droplet before the whole storm hits. That way the rhythm stays pure, and the rain can truly lead the dance. Thanks for the reminder—sometimes the only real safety net is a splash of good old intuition.