The heat wave that has cooked the Ottawa Valley this past week is now gone, and we're into a new weather system, windy and cool, and it is extremely comfortable. Enough so that it's breezy work cutting the grass and weeding the gardens. Though I speak of weeding, it is primarily sunflower seedlings, some of which have grown to impressive size, that I'm taking out. Of course, leaving some to grow to maturity to show off their splendid flowers, but there are far too many and they're encroaching on the space given to perennials.

Runners take part in the Scotiabank Ottawa Marathon, held in downtown Ottawa during the Tamarack Ottawa Race Weekend, May 29, 2016. Tony Caldwell / Postmedia Network

The sizzling-hot conditions the weather posed was a real problem for those running marathon races at the Tamarack Ottawa Race Weekend. But things turned out extremely well, nonetheless. There were races for children of a single kilometre, and the longest one was 42.195 kilometres, taking place on Sunday. Altogether 47,000 racers involved themselves in the weekend's challenges.

Volunteers preparing to pitch in to allay runners' thirst -- CBC

Unsurprisingly, the winners were Ethiopians, and runners-up were both Kenyans and Ethiopian runners. They have cleaned up the medals for the last several years. Taking home with them jackpots of up to $30,000. As runners and athletes they are unparalleled in talent, stamina and endurance. Both the men's and the women's 42-K race were won by Ethiopians doing their damnedest to beat the pack, and they certainly did, with full honours.

46,940 runners
2,500 volunteers
43,000 bananas handed out
643, 520 litres of water used
716,791 kilometres run
$775,000 raised for charity
Three hospitalizated due to heat-related illnesses

Not only that, but marathoners involved in the various races had an additional agenda, to raise funds for research into medical conditions like cancer, like mitochondrial disease, like mental illness. The total intake for these charitable causes turned out to be $775,000; not a bad take for any event meant to benefit society.

Although these doughty souls taking part representing all age groups had a difficult time thanks to weather conditions, and people living along the routes were asked to haul out their garden hoses and douse runners as they ran past, good humour put exhaustion on a balance of effort and outcome. Casualties were few and recovery was swift. Everyone, from the runners to the organizers and the volunteers produced a superb event, one to be proud of. Congratulations!

Volunteers assess a runner at the finish line of the Ottawa marathon on Sunday, May 29, 2016 (CBC)

Foamflower

Another scorcher of a day dawned so once again just after breakfast we set off for the ravine. Finding there along with mosquitoes, a very nice breeze that managed to mitigate both the early morning heat and the bloodsuckers to some degree. There was a handful of other old ravine acquaintances out early for the very same reason, two of them runners, their dogs loping alongside and loving it, albeit panting ferociously.

Spirea

I knew I'd be cleaning the house (since I do that every Monday), as soon as we returned from our ramble in the woods, but it just made sense to get out there early enough to beat the afternoon heat. Late yesterday afternoon there were encouraging signs for rain, thunderclouds had gathered overhead and two thunderheads in particular looked as though we'd be getting a good soaking, but all we got was the thrill of hearing those deep rolls of thunder, and elsewhere received the rain.

We did a circuit of the garden on our return, and that was pleasant, to see what was in early bloom. And so we found the pink tree peony had started its bloom, though the yellow one in the backyard hadn't yet.

Ajuga was blooming, and one of the rhododendrons had begun to open its blooms with a pink emphasis this year where those blooms are usually darker, carmine. The first of the Columbine is blooming, and the Phlox in the rock garden as well.

Bearded Irises have begun to open and so have the Siberian irises, their more delicate cousins.

Alongside the driveway the Wedding Veil Spirea has almost gained full bloom and it's a sight to behold. As is, actually the foamflower that I had transplanted a decade ago in the form of one little plant from the ravine, and which has since grown into a carpet under some very old conifers.

And the garden pots are beginning to thrive, though it's only been a week since they were all planted. Looks like a very good start to the summer blooming season.

And oh yes, the Jacks-in-the-Pulpit that we had also transplanted from the ravine which grow to an incredible giant size every summer since in the garden are showing off again.

Yesterday was hot and humid, a good day to stay indoors as much as possible to avoid heat exhaustion. And here we are, today we're informed will be even hotter. Foliage is curling up in the garden, assaulted by too much heat, and too little moisture.

No complaints, though, because the heat buildup seems to bring rainclouds in the late afternoon, even though none is predicated, and a cooling shower of hard rain is the result. Today, thunderstorms are being predicted for this afternoon.

Shelf fungus

All of which made good sense for a much earlier-in-the-day ravine walk. We left directly after breakfast, and walking up the street to gain access to the ravine introduced us to a taste of what the day is destined to become.

Dogwood

And this weekend is the Ottawa race weekend. Staff at local hospitals are bracing for more admissions than usual, from people pushing themselves too hard and suffering for it; everything from sunburn to heatstroke to heart attacks. And, of course, simply dehydration.

Dogwood

People living along the route have been asked to have their garden hoses at the ready and aim them at the runners as they sprint past. And there will be tens of thousands of people to aim those hoses at.

Honeysuckle

As for us, an amble in the ravine hits just the right spot. And amble we did, taking our time. In fact, as soon as we dipped into the ravine a cooling breeze hit us, surprisingly. Surprising because when its windy usually the wind is felt out on the street level, not well within the ravine. In cold weather it's welcome, in hot weather the reverse is alternately welcome.

Revealing the purple-striped underside of the Jack hood

The dogwood bushes are now in full bloom, and so are the honeysuckles. We even saw a few pinks and we've never seen them in the ravine before. The Jacks are in their strength, and some are preparing to fade, just as the trilliums before them have.

Pink

Another plant we came across that I can't recall seeing before in the ravine is yellow rocket, a member of the mustard family.

Yellow rocket

Plenty of visual treats walking along the woodland trails this morning, and it didn't yet feel hot and stuffy, but cool and refreshing. The cool green of fresh foliage brightened by shafts of sunlight is actually refreshing to the eye.

When we arrived back home after an hour of wandering in the woods, the heat did assail us. And by the time we entered the house, it felt hot indeed.

Para-medics, I am personally convinced, are a breed apart. They are very special people as first-response-in-emergency professionals. Somewhat akin to firefighters. Only the fire they are determined to put out through their interpretive and temporarily remediative skills, and to buy time while transporting people in dire medical-health straits to hospital emergency units, is life itself.

Can a price be placed on that utterly priceless service to compensate these skilled humanitarians? Is the gratitude of those they rescue from dread consequences enough to satisfy their inner need to respond and aid? And what toll on their psyches does it take when despite all their skilled efforts nothing can be done to solve an emergency situation, other than to transport a victim so that physicians have the opportunity to apply their heightened skills?

For us, on the several occasions when we have had no option other than to dial 911 and ask for ambulance service resulting from a health emergency, the instant action of these outstanding members of society in a profession for which duly fulsome appreciation simply does not suffice to convey our gratitude, the paramedics' concern, expeditious actions, attention to fine detail, represents the sublime in the human spirit.

In our limited experience, though we are aware that both men and women are trained as paramedics, we have had the services of men only. And in our experience these usually young men whom we trust with our very lives respond as only people with the confidence of professional experience and a determination to answer to a desperate need, impress us beyond mere words.

This early morning's such event was simply yet another convincing performance of humanity reaching into the stratosphere of the most excellent of human emotional relations; strangers setting out to rescue people they have no personal knowledge of, by using their hard-learned and hard-earned skills as medical professionals.

Apple blossoms

We had grown accustomed during the years living here that in mid- to late-May flycatchers would return from their winter southern migration to nest under one of the bridges in Bilberry Creek ravine, the bridge closest to our ravine entrance. It seems now that they will never return. It must have confused them last spring when they returned to their old nesting ground to discover how altered it had been. The old bridge had been taken away, a new one built.

Dogwood

 

 

Black cherry

This year again no sight of the flycatchers, so it seems obvious that they are unable to find adequately suitable nesting areas under these new bridges, not at all hospitable to their purpose, and that's quite sad, we feel. But spring is well entrenched now, we hear bluejays, cardinals, song sparrows and robins in the trees singing their spring songs of welcome.

Hawthorn

Flowering trees like Serviceberry have blossomed; apple trees are in the process and so are the wild black cherry trees. They've been followed by the hawthornes and the understory shrubs like honeysuckle and dogwood are in hot pursuit with their flower buds.

False Solomon's Seal

On the forest floor there's an amazing amount of spring flowering. Red baneberry has transitioned already from its floral stage to its berry appearance. False Solomon's Seal is beginning to flower and though they won't host any of their shyly hidden flowers yet, we've seen new colonies of wild ginger.

Wild Ginger

Trilliums and Trout lilies are in the decline now, and Jack-in-the-Pulpits in the ascendancy. And there is more, much more to come. Foamflower is blooming luxuriantly.

Foamflower

We've kept our eyes peeled for any random sightings of Blue-eyed grass, but no luck yet and likely that elusive, exquisite tiny flower will continue to baffle our expectations; we were fortune to sight it in previous years, and it just is not returning, it seems.

Red Baneberry

Now when we look out the glass of our front door toward the gardens at the front of our house, or through a window, our eyes are captured by bright areas of colour where none existed only a few days earlier.

It's taken several days of attention to what will be planted where to make certain that all of the urns, pots and other planters we have scattered around the gardens, front and back of our home are well endowed with the potential for summer splendour; a richness of form, texture and colour, and sometimes fragrance as well.

These are aspirational little scenes, the contents of each of these garden pots, representing gardens-in-miniature, hosting immature plants which will in time throughout the season grow to mature presence in the full glory of what they are capable of producing. The spare room in the soil of each of these pots will no longer be seen as the plants reach maturity and companionably share full space with one another.

It's always a challenge and never anything but pleasurable to pay homage to nature and the seasons by arranging annuals in a manner to complement the reliability in succession of our various perennials scattered throughout the gardens. The magnolia trees have begun shedding their blossoms, and in their place the ornamental crabs are in full regalia.

The scintillating beauty of the variety of blossoms and their shapes, their shades, give us enormous pleasure to behold. Our eyes sweep across the tight panorama of what constitutes our property, to glance from one area to another with the distinctive presence of each, and each delivers a gift of beauty.

This is a pleasure and an appreciation of nature's bounty in aesthetics so deep that my mind can get lost contemplating it all, and I feel I could just stand there and breathe it all in with the lens of my soul's aesthetic.

It resembles the pleasure in transcendent beauty that overcomes me when I rest before one of my husband's stained glass windows in various types of light situations and remain frozen in the clasp of the richness that confronts me.

In the full blast of the sun on truly warm days it's exhausting to expend energy on anything in the out-of-doors. Yesterday was one such day, today another. And while my husband busied himself completing the erection of the new gazebo on our deck, by tackling the roof, I focused on finishing up planting annuals in all our garden pots.

This was an exercise that began yesterday on a similar weather day. I'd managed then after working outside for several hours to plant many of the annuals we had bought and assembled in our usual springtime routine, in the days before. Today's planting exercise represented the finish-up of that process. I also planted a large calla lily that I'd cut back and taken down to the basement to overwinter last fall, as well as several giant-sized dahlias and a number of potato vines.

And, of course, the dozens of begonia bulbs that I usually harvest in late fall and then set out in the garden pots in the backyard, every spring.

Finished just after noon, we went out for our usual ravine ramble with Jackie and Jillie and found ourselves in an emerald world, the midday sun blasting its light through the new, green canopy, illuminating the forest brilliantly. A light breeze brought a bluejay's call to our ears, and the sweet springtime song of robins. We all enjoy these wonderful days of leisure at nature's pleasure.

A bonus is that we can now look out our windows at the colourful display of flowers in bloom. The plants are all in juvenile mode at the present time but before long they will become mature, their form, texture and colour blazing in the sun.

Gardening tradition in this house means I can now step in and perform the finishing touches to our nascent 2016 summer garden. All the hard work, preparatory to fulfilling that function has been done now, courtesy of my husband who yesterday hauled out all the garden pots, put them in place, and filled them dutifully with the kind of loamy-rich soil that will lead to healthy flowering plants giving us visual delight throughout the summer and into fall.

Now he has returned his attention to finishing the installation of the new pergola, a metal structure fitted together as a scaffolding, and this time with a light-emitting metallic-clad roof in place of the previous canvas-topped roofs that had previously kept us dry even in thunderstorms, while sitting in comfort in the privacy of our deck which constitutes a special 'summer room' for us.

Yesterday again after our ravine walk we went out to a local but rural greenhouse to collect additional plants for the pots and gardens. Foolish, since it was the May 24 Sunday and the place was packed, but we weren't there long since I had a fairly good idea of what we wanted.

So now, all those flats of annuals and perennials meant for the pots and the garden beds are awaiting transfer, and today is the day I begin. The gardens themselves are beginning to prosper, gradually assuming shape.

The early blooming shrubs and trees: the ornamental crab apples, the magnolias, the Japanese quinces have brought bright colour to the emerging green that is starting to transform the gardens, and they're delightful.

Our very most favourite perennials of all, the various-leafed-and-sized hostas are steadily emerging everywhere. The rock garden along one side of the house is assuming its steps toward summer-maturity.

Roses are setting their buds in hot competition with the peonies. And the bright red of the many heucheras splotch radiant colour wherever they have travelled in the gardens as volunteers filling in bare spots. If they eventually crowd out the equally-migrant Ladies Mantle I won't mind one bit.

Last weekend's work for my husband consisted of cleaning out the garage, removing the detritus we had carried into the garage daily through our ravine walks, and that was a relief, to be able to walk now into a place cleared of all that dried muck that had accumulated. Last weekend as well my husband got around to changing the ice tires and wheels for his pick-up truck and and our car, to put the all-weather tires on until next winter comes around again. I'd so much prefer he take them to a garage and get them done there, but he insists they're a trifle to do and he's more than capable of doing them himself. Needless to say, it's time-consuming, hard physical work.

He's more recently, when time permits, been putting together the new gazebo he bought to install on our deck, last fall. In the fall  he had taken down the old one that had worked well for us for about fifteen years, but we were unable any longer to get replacement canvas tops for the gazebo. So he removed the frame and put it out for collection by whomever it is that patrols the area the day before household waste pick-up weekly, and retrieves such things for metal scrap recycling.

After he had scraped down the deck last week, and then re-applied the waterproof stain he always uses, the erection of the new gazebo was next in line. He's got the sides up and has installed the curtains, and now what remains is for the top to be put in place in its metal sections, more durable than the canvas tops we'd previously used.

But even that has to wait, because this morning he hauled the garden pots out of storage and has begun distributing them around the garden, front and back, to be filled with a mixture of garden soil, aged manure and peat moss. I'll add bonemeal/bloodmeal when I'm ready to plant the annuals in them. Yesterday we took time out after our ravine walk to drive over to the rural growers from whom we usually get the flats of geraniums and begonias, along with associated other flowers; asters, lobelia and whatever else strikes our fancy.

And soon the planting frenzy will begin. It is, after all, the Victoria Day long-weekend that Canadians wait for as their traditional signal that it is unlikely any more frost conditions will arise. Though that isn't always the case.