Jack and Jill don't much like the rain. If we take them out when it's raining they invariably rush under the deck, to stay dry. Can't say we much blame them. But when we first took them out this morning it hadn't yet begun seriously raining, just a very delicate drizzle. We've got raincoats we take with on our ravine walks for use when and if we encounter a downpour while we're out; they hardly need them on these occasions.

So instead of rushing to the dry area under the deck they rushed instead, in a concert of two enthusiasts to the rock garden that reaches from the front of the house to the back, on the narrow side of our lot. There to happily browse, though they had eaten their breakfast just a short while earlier.

Chewing on twigs, digging up the roots of violets, making off with the little Hens-n'-chicks, provides them with entertainment and a challenge to see what they can get away with before I rebuke their antics.

Colour seems to intensify in these conditions. Green especially seems to glow. The bearded irises raised their floral stalks so quickly, it never fails to amaze; they're on the cusp of blooming. Our giant hosta has already begun to send up its flower stalks. Climbing roses have begun to set their buds and so has the climbing hydrangea and the peonies, promising a spectacular showing in a brief period of time. Siberian irises are in bloom and so are the bleeding hearts. Columbine and Canterbury bells are setting their floral buds.

The miniature roses in their little pots are in bloom, a nice punch of aromatic colour and form. Some of the nasturtium and morning glory seeds I planted have germinated nicely. A goldfinch was rummaging about behind the still-blooming magnolia.

Jack and Jill have had their hunting instinct awakened, absorbed from time to time in tracking and snapping at bees, mosquitoes and beetles that annoy them. Last night they had captured a June bug that required rescuing from their clutches. They seem at these times, like cats, playing with a captive audience.