Rain, rain and more rain. No sooner had we completed our daily circuit in the already-drenched woods yesterday, than the rain began to come down. And come down, and come down. It installed itself stubbornly for the balance of the day and on into the evening.

Just as well we don't really mind it. We manage, by and large, to get out with our little dogs irrespective, whenever there's a window of opportunity. And yesterday's window was mid-morning when the rain had stopped and there was a brief period when the sky looked threatening but no rain presented itself for that period of time, and off we went.

The condition of the gardens, and the many of our garden pots and  urns gives us assurance that they too don't mind the rain. True, they flourish when the sun also makes its appearance in between those wet sessions, but even without the steady presence of sun -- at least as much as we've long been accustomed to -- everything in the garden appears to be thriving.

It's colourful and full of texture, even though the season is young. And young too are the annual plants that have gone into the urns and pots, so they look fairly sparse, not anywhere close to, merely approximating the thick richness of form and texture and bursts of colour variations that will eventually represent those minuscule gardens-in-a-pot that we so love.

Complaints? None, really. Instead, we heartily appreciate the conditions that have led to spring warmth, even with the rain and the wind sometimes making the atmosphere seem pretty intemperate.  It's not winter, after all!