It had rained constantly and heavily the night before, the atmosphere completely saturated. When we ventured outdoors first thing yesterday morning, the rain had turned to drizzle, so little Jack and Jill weren't too thrilled at being outside for their first-of-the-morning bodily discharges. On these occasions they try to scramble back up the stairs to the deck, to take cover under the canopy, while we hustle them back down to the garden to do their business and get it over with. They've plenty to learn yet about the hardships of facing life's necessities obviously, silly little tykes.

No sooner did we re-enter the house to begin the day properly, than the heavens broke into yet another series of rainstorms, complete with thunder. It was destined to be 'one of those days', but who cares, we need the rain; at least outdoor growing things do. By the time early afternoon rolled around the rain had finally come to an end, and the sun was so bold as to mount its chariot in the sky. When we left the house the sun was shining in a sky uncertain whether it should clear or clear the way for oncoming dark clouds. We thought it prudent, sun or not, to take along raincoats for the twins, and folding umbrellas for us; too stifling warm to wear rainjackets.

As we entered the woods and dipped down into the ravine, droplets fell from time to time on us from the overburdened canopy above. Bilberry Creek was in full flood from the overnight and morning rain events; wide, full and muddy. As we strode along drops falling from overhead soon came to an end; the sun was doing its work. Halfway through our circuit, serene silence prevailing, we became aware that an early-in-the-day forest dusk had enclosed us. Looking up through the canopy it was obvious why; nature had settled the argument with itself, welcoming back dark storm clouds.

Sure enough, we soon heard the rumbling of thunder drawing ever nearer, but decided to wait before putting raincoats on our little black imps. And when the rain did begin to fall, the foliage shielding us managed to keep the rain at bay, giving us ample opportunity to begin the ritual of preparing ourselves for the inevitable. A bit of a struggle to get the raincoats on the puppies and the leash firmly attached to the halters they wore under the raincoats, attaching the leashes through a small slit in the raincoats. Jack and Jill have learned to be philosophical about these indignities to their independent little persons.

So by the time the rain really began to penetrate in large, hard-hitting drops, we opened our umbrellas and positioned ourselves under a particularly large old tree with a credible leaf mass. That too worked for awhile. Thunder rolled over us, and lightning could be seen flashing momentarily, startling the puppies, but we waited there. Puddles soon formed on the forest floor and rivulets of muddy rainwater began flowing. Thunderstorms are violent and inundate any area they hit swiftly, but they tend to be of fairly short duration, so we waited. The umbrellas covered us and Jack and Jill as we all stood awaiting the end of the storm. Before us were a collection of steep hills to be clambered, making little sense for us to forge ahead under these conditions.

Before the rain relented, a man we're not familiar with and his large black dog hurried by on the trail, he looking none too pleased nor inclined to be casually civil; drenched both of them, though the dog was a friendly sort. When the rain did peter out, off we continued on our trail walk none the worse for wear, and just slightly wet here and there. Before we exited the ravine we were able to furl the umbrellas and slow our pace, though light rain continued to trickle down. The puppies were wholly appreciative of a good towelled rub-down after we entered the house and it took them about two seconds before they challenged one another to a free-for-all rampage about the house.