Another day, another series of rain events. So, forewarned of an afternoon devoted to rain and thunderstorms, off we went after breakfast for our daily ramble in the ravine, our two puppies excited and happy to be out and about. We have decided until and unless circumstances guide us otherwise, to continue to leave them unhindered on the trails by a leash. They're still wearing their harnesses, since they're far kinder to their small but tough little bodies than linking a leash to their collars, but that's just in case we've got to leash them.

As we did briefly when a small group of teenage boys were ripping through the trails on their mountain bikes yesterday afternoon. Leaving us to wonder how thrilled they'll be on return home to discover their bicycles are heavily creamed with thick muck. Since it's clay-muck it is also resistant to easy removal. But the appeal of ravine trails always manifest as soon as school is out for the summer months. It doesn't last long.

It's gratifying in a sense that we've been able to get out without hindrance for our daily woodland hikes despite all the rain. There is invariably a window of opportunity, when the rain stops or when it lightens up and the drenched canopy still works hard to keep us relatively dry. We haven't yet been caught out in a heavy downpour, although we have missed them by a slender whisper of time. It isn't pleasant, as an experience; not so bad for us, utterly miserable for Jackie and Jillie.

A casual acquaintance informed us a few days ago that while he was out with his husky he was startled to come across a deer in the ravine. It does happen, from time to time. He had his electronic collar on his dog this time, he assured us, so when it leaped after the startled deer, he pressed the signal to give it a shock, restraining it from following the poor creature. Which, we trust, made its way back to safer natural environs.

Yellow loosestrife, fleabane, daisies and Queen Anne's Lace have taken over the sentry duty on the trails. Goldenrod and asters (fall asters, for heaven's sake!) are preparing their blooms now that the stalks have reached the right height. We're still perplexed over identifying the small trees that have raised their compound white-floral blooms. They resemble sumacs for their foliage and growth manner, but the blooms don't appear to be remotely typical, more like hydrangea blooms. Wild hydrangeas? Nope, the foliage doesn't match.

The work crews busy stabilizing the hills in the ravine and the flow of the creek, we've now been informed through a leaflet distributed to the houses on our street, won't be finished until the end of August. At which time, thankfully, reforestation will also take place. And those neighbours who live across and down the street from us will finally be able to return to their homes. A miserable dislocation, a traumatic event for these people, the extent of which I cannot even begin to imagine!