The forested ravine close by our house, an entry to which exists just across from one of the group mailboxes that service the street we live on, represents quality of life to us in our easy access to green recreational opportunities. The majority of those who live within the area make no use of it whatever.

On the other hand, it is occasionally used as a dump. There can still be seen household objects, once an old abandoned sofa, and occasionally bedsprings and mattresses, even old used tires. Every fall someone rips ripe apples off their backyard apple tree and hauls them over to the ravine to dump them rather than using them. There they lie, a colourful offering to the denizens of the forest. And there they rot, filling the atmosphere with a sour fragrance of fruit gone to waste.

There is a good soul who goes around the ravine on occasion, hunting mushrooms. He always carries on his large, strapping back a capacious rucksack and into it he deposits any detritus he turns up, from discarded water bottles to broken bits of ski equipment. He has been responsible for dragging bedsprings and vehicle tires out of our beloved ravine. We certainly owe him a debt of gratitude, but he tells us he feels compelled to do that, it fulfills a need within himself.

Most days when we're ambling through the ravine we see no one else doing the same thing. Particularly on clear sunny days when the temperature is very pleasant, and that's quite puzzling. Yesterday, on the other hand, the sky was overcast all day. When it didn't appear like a solid lid of pure aluminum, there were clouds scudding across dark and menacing. Surprisingly, there was a ten-minute block of pure sunshine.

I cleaned the house yesterday and that took hours so it wasn't until fairly late in the afternoon that we were free to embark on a ravine ramble, intending to make it a relatively short one, given the time. I carried with me in a pocket little Riley's rainjacket, and a small umbrella dangled from one of my wrists, along with a bagful of peanuts to dole out. We thought, though, that we'd make it through the hike without fear of a sudden downpour.

But just as we began the downward ascent into the ravine, we heard a far-off distant rumble, and weren't certain because of its dim quality whether it was a truck somewhere on the road or indeed thunder. Indeed, it was thunder; that was verified as it continued and gradually drew closer. Surprisingly quickly, it overtook us so that by the time we were merely halfway through our ravine walk it was deafeningly loud, almost overhead. Amazingly, despite the weather, we encountered more people running through, bicycling, or simply hiking as we were, than we would normally, in a month of rambles.

One young man, just mounting a hill wasn't even aware of impending storms; he had ear buds tucked securely into place, obviously the sound up high, and could hear nothing else until we alerted him. The cracks of thunder were, as we closed in on the last quadrant of our hike, right overhead, and the volumes increased in number just as lightning too began to strike close by. We were amazed, as we exited the ravine to see a group of young bicyclists just preparing to ride down the first long hill into the ravine. We urged them to find shelter quickly.

And then, there was a muscular young man with two large dogs also just entering the ravine obviously for a leisurely ravine walk. He paid no heed to our greeting and continued on his way. We no longer felt hurried as we entered the street and walked down to our driveway. And just as we came abreast of the garage, a long streak of lightning rent the air close by. It had grown appreciably darker, so much so that as we entered the house it resembled night in the dim interior.

And then the rain broke with massive torrents spilling out of the sky. A spectacle we enjoy watching from the comfort and safety of the interior of our home, far less so caught out in the middle of a forest.