Heat, exacerbated by high humidity under steely-clouded skies still invited us out to the ravine for an excursion through the woodland trails early yesterday afternoon. Jackie and Jillie expect no less. In deference to the forecast however, of all-day thunderstorm threats sometimes of violent intensity, we took along a backpack with rain gear.  Which, in truth, wouldn't have been of much use had we been caught by a storm and not a light rain event.

Indulging in the usual argument, I insisted I would wear the backpack, a small affair after all, and mine, while my husband had little option but to agree and he took along our little poodles' water bottle to be able to offer them refreshment whenever their tongues got to the point of disengaging from their roots firmly ensconced in their mouths.

As usual, we stopped briefly by the huge thistles which truly fascinate us. All the more so with the frenetic and ongoing bee activity brought along by the thistles opening their beautiful flowers, one after the other. These immense thistles have countless flower buds but they never open simultaneously; out of a total of perhaps 50 on each plant, only several open at a time, have their moment of glory, shrivel once the bees have taken their fill of pollen, and others reveal themselves.

It's also the time of goldenrod flowering, and the graceful plumes of tiny flowers that make up the whole are finally turning their bright, sunny glow of golden-yellow. Yarrow too is coming into its own finally, but still overwhelmed by the more numerous Queen Anne's lace. They might seem to the unaccustomed eye to resemble one another but they don't really, each catching the eye in its own inimitable beauty.

As it turned out, this was one of those rare days when a breeze barely stirred the canopy of the forest and the gathered clouds continued to threaten, but no sound of thunder far off to warn us that rain would be imminent. It was hot, yet only 27C and the bare stirring of whatever breeze there was occasionally washed over us with a brief cooling factor.

Rain failed to develop after all. It wasn't until five in the late afternoon that a thunderstorm finally moved in and inundated the landscape with a cooling rain event. And I was grateful for that, since I had just days earlier planted some wax begonias in the garden because I abhor the sight of an orderly garden, preferring one crowded and colourful.