Very early yesterday morning it was evident it would be a hot and muggy day.  There was the usual weather report following the morning radio news on the hour and in the morning newspapers.  So we knew we were in for another day of oppressive heat when we set off under clear blue skies and entered the ravine, where we found some respite from the glaring sun under the forest's canopy.

A nice, gentle breeze ruffled the undergrowth and the trees as well, bringing further relief from the heat-infused moisture that suffused the environment.  Mosquitoes were rejoicing; perfect conditions for them, the heat had not yet wreaked its damage upon them after a series of overnight thunderstorms, and they lit hungrily on any exposed skin they could find.

We enjoyed the walk, as we usually do, noting that the dogwood blossoms had quickly turned rusty, signalling the end of their bloom season, and the black cherry trees had developed the initial stages of fruit from their completed blossom stage.

In the distant, there was the low rumble of an airplane flying over.  And then, some while later, as we ambled along clambering uphill, repeat rumbles with some distance between them, strongly resembling thunder, despite that the portions of the sky we could glimpse through the canopy was blue-blue-blue and sunlight was streaming relentlessly through the interstices of the canopy.

As we progressed, the rumbles grew more frequently insistent and certainly louder, definitely announcing the imminence of a storm, despite that the sky still looked blue, and sunlight continued to beam its lightness everywhere we looked, transforming leaves into bright shimmering pale green transparencies.

And then, a hint of what was to come, as we could espie ragged washrags of grey clouds on the distant horizon, accompanied by louder rumblings and grumblings from above.

Then we realized that the sunlight had just about vanished, and the sky was becoming a uniform, washed-out grey colour, inspiring us to pick up our speed to some notable degree.  By that time we had almost completed our usual hour-long circuit in the ravine.  Continual and very close rumblings convinced us that we would prefer to witness the storm in action from the dry comfort of home, and we made a determined effort to pick up our pace.

As we exited the trailhead to the ravine onto the street, the sky above bore no resemblance whatever to the one we had noted as we entered that same trailhead, an hour or so earlier.  And, as we made our way up the driveway to our house, the big, fat drops began to descend in earnest.  And the deep, bass notes of the storm were music to our ears.