One step forward, two steps back. At least it seems that way at times. In this instance it's the state of the forest in our nearby wooded ravine. Which had, at long last, shed itself of its enforced-by-rain-events-that-never-seemed-to-stop saturation. The forest floor had finally managed to divest itself through absorbing all the excess rain that fell from April to the present, and evaporation no doubt did the rest.

An all-nighter of ferocious rainfall reversed that process, however, and we found ourselves yesterday negotiating our way around large standing puddles that will without doubt delight egg-laying mosquitoes. We hardly need any more rain, though our gardens around the house have been able to thrive this summer because of all the rainfall.

Yesterday morning the atmosphere was so suffused with moisture, even when the rain had stopped you felt as though you were moving through a curtain of invisible water droplets. It took all day, in the absence of sun, for the raindrops that gathered on vegetation to finally dissipate. I've no idea whether crickets enjoy all this moisture, but they were persistent and loud last evening.

As we exited the ravine, Max caught up with us and we ascended together the last long uphill haul to the street we live on. Max is an avid ravine walker, he zips along like nobody's business, a walking stick in each hand. He's an affable man and a friend of ours. His circuit is even longer and more complex than ours, taking him in close proximity to where the work is proceeding to remediate the hillside that had collapsed from extreme saturation when the Leda clay dissolved.

And so, coming abreast to where the work takes place, he often sees and discusses progress with the worksite supervisor. He informed us that they had encountered some difficulties with the bedrock and as a result the projected finish time will go beyond the first of September. On the good news front, however, as we were walking down the street toward our house with Max we saw walking toward us one of the couples that had been vacated from their house, located at the cusp of the hillslide.

They're an elderly couple, the wife walks with a really elaborately stout walker, her husband always several paces ahead. We told them how pleased we were to see them returned to their house, down and across the street from ours. And along came Margaret, who lives on the street behind us, so there we were a little crowd of people, discussing local events and pleased to see one another, before Max, who lives some distance of streets further in the neighbourhood went on his way, and Margaret told us excitedly that she and her husband are heading out to the Orkney Islands for a two-week holiday.