Again, yesterday, we were fortunate.  For the most part, we seem to be able, somehow, to evade the slight misfortune of being caught in a resolute downpour that no amount of leafy canopy could protect us from, as a result of sheer volume.

Yesterday dawned dark and overcast, and but for a very brief period when the sun managed to evince itself through the conspiracy of clouds, the day remained heavily overcast.  A situation which never deters us from our daily ravine walk.  We tied rainjackets around our waists, tucked little Riley's raincoat into one of our pockets and set off into the ravine which was well soaked from overnight rain.  So well soaked the upturned leaves cradled their fill of rainfall.

The creek still ran vigorously with its excess of water, and the squirrels were busy after a strange absence of several days' duration, scavenging for peanuts we normally leave in various cache spots.  There was a bluejay close by, with its rusty-hinge calls; we thought it might be a juvenile.  We saw quite a few robins; they seem to gather in small flocks in the ravine at this late-summer time of year.  And there was a hairy woodpecker busy on a tree trunk.

The larger of the deep purple and the pink asters are now in bloom, alongside the more insignificant appearing white ones.  There is plenty of Queen Anne's lace and a bit of chicory still in bloom. 

And overhead, in the sky, there were long, low rumbles whose portent was unmistakable.  Those rumbling warnings became progressively nearer and louder as the sky became more densely occupied with darker clouds.  We took our time nonetheless and it was over an hour by the time we emerged from our ramble.

Up the last long hill, and out onto the street, then an amble down the street to our driveway.  And that's precisely when we felt the first tentative drops of rain.