It is utterly sodden out. The rain just will not stop. Not merely rain, but wonderfully noisy thunderstorms. The winds haven't abated, but they've been hot, hot Sahara-type winds, giving no relief to the humid heat that surrounds us, in this odd atmosphere. For which the Ottawa Valley is famous, given to extraordinary leaps from one weather system to its direct opposite.

Our little dog asks to go out, then hesitates and hops right back into the house, once he peruses the glistening puddles littering the deck. We'll take him out with us shortly in this brief break from the rain, where the sun saucily peeks out from behind those dark thunderheads from time to time. The garden is happy, however. This will be one of those rare summers when our climbing hydrangea has vigorously put out countless of its snowy-white-green-tinged panicles of florets.

Riley, wearing his raincoat, waiting to go out

One of our tree peonies, both elderly, began the spring as it usually does, but appears to have done a permanent swoon. The other, with its luscious full-blown pink blooms, also appears to have suffered dieback, despite this having been a moderately 'milder' winter, albeit approaching the normal in cold and snowpack for an Ottawa winter. I've had to cut back many of its old wood wands, and it is growing vigorously from the bottom, new branches reaching out of the soil to attain the height of the old.

This morning, when we came downstairs for breakfast, robins were singing happily, despite the rain. Oh, likely because of the rain, since earthworms are driven to the surface lest they drown and the robins take full advantage of their emergence. The clouds remain, but there are bits of blue and occasional sun. My husband put on the radio and suddenly we heard that old song from the Broadway hit of 1953, "Kismet", and the wonderful Borodin musical strain which had been raided for Stranger in Paradise lofted through our breakfast room. And my husband invited me to the dance.

That was the year we adopted it as "our song". We were sixteen. And married two years later. And it has never lost its resonance for us.