Nature, unpredictable, a prankster, sometimes benevolent, sometimes downright cranky. It was the cranky element that we witnessed yesterday with copious rain flooding the atmosphere, and making it hugely unlikely that we would want to venture out into the ravine for our usual daily perambulation.

Not that Jackie and Jillie seemed to mind, but as it happens, we mind when we're unable to get them out for a good, vigorous walk in the woods. They make up for it by tearing through the house after one another, tussling, wrestling, grunting and having a general good time, so that's some consolation.

What greeted us this morning was about as distant from yesterday's downpour-that-wouldn't-stop, as it would be possible to imagine. Bright sunlight streaming through the house, and a heart-throbbing kaleidoscope of colour out in the garden.

That just happens to be the combination that gardens love; ample rain and plenty of sun to soak up the rain. The garden has responded this year by leaps and bounds of growth and maturity, far more so than any other year of an ordinary spring with just-enough rain and fulsome sun.

The ravine, however, once we made our way there, was utterly drenched. The soil, already having received far more rain than is usual, simply cannot handle any more, and so it sits about on the forest floor, in great shallow puddles of the type that mosquitoes just adore. Clearly the ferocity of yesterday's rain washed all the mosquito larvae out of the puddles that hadn't yet dried up, so our walk today was relatively mosquito-free.

However, conditions are just right with the presence now of even larger pools of water, stagnant and welcoming to more mosquito larvae and we'll know all about it in the coming days. Just as well that the magnetic attraction of the forest and the happy satisfaction we derive from rambling through it presents its own irresistible draw, enabling us to consider those stinging pests merely slight inconveniences.