Sometimes the gloomy atmosphere that prevails when you wake in the morning and instead of bright light streaming through the windows of your house a dusky atmosphere prevails -- makes one feel unsettled, a little sad, pensive at the very least. It's how I felt yesterday. On the other hand, often when it rains and you've no immediate plans to embark on any project that will take you out of the house, the rain serves to make you feel comfortable, protected and dry, while thinking of how good the rain is for growing vegetation.

It was certainly pleasant enough at breakfast time with rain teeming down the sliding patio doors. And the thought of all the planters we've got stuffed with annuals, and the perennials coming up and beginning to make a show of themselves being thankful for the rain. We've had the front lawn seeded because Bell Canada ripped up most of it in the winter to re-attach a communication cable that had failed the fall before.

That they failed to tend to it, leaving a temporary cable connected to our neighbour's connection to ensure we had access to all our communication needs, looped along the lawn, through the flower garden, and sitting there for months on end bare and exposed was irritating enough. Eventually they decided to activate our service without continuing to resort to piggy-backing on our neighbour's, but in the process, during the dead of winter, with the lawns piled high with snow, they destroyed the lawn when a deep crater was dug with the help of a huge mechanical shovel, the cable replaced and re-attached, and when spring came, the snow melted, and the full extent of the devastated lawn was evident.

After months a crew came around, dug the cable into the flower beds extending it to the house, and filled the crater with all the dense clay that had been dug out, finally topping it with soil, and scattered grass seed. My husband had worked on that lawn the summer before, after Japanese beetle grubs had destroyed it, and he succeeded in producing the perfect turf. Well, it's not the most critical thing that could happen, after all.

So, that taken into account, we really didn't mind the rain, even though the atmosphere was already saturated as has been the forest, with constant rain events. By late morning it was evident the rain wasn't about to stop any time soon. So we suited up, all of us, in rain jackets and set off for the forest trails. Since the forest canopy is now well leafed out, we had the benefit of it acting as a semi-shelter from the rain which by that time was no longer teeming having turned into a steady but lighter event.

Jackie and Jillie, both of whom hesitate and prefer not to venture out into the backyard when it's raining, paid little mind to the rain. It was more than a little pleasant, in any event, toddling along the trails, in the rain. The trails were sodden, but even more so the forest floor, beyond the trails. The forest takes on a special glow when it's wet. And rain drops on foliage is beautiful in and of itself. Our local mosquito population must be beside itself with joy at the prospect of a never-ending source of breeding territory with the vast tracts of acreage drenched and standing pools of rainwater occupying much of the area.

Later, at home, by mid-afternoon, the rain stopped, the sun arrived in a clearing sky, and the opportunity arose to walk about in the gardens. There is so much colour now, it's rather unbelievable how swiftly everything has changed. Mind, much of the colour has resulted from our having planted annuals in our various garden urns and pots, but the Japanese quince is in flower, as is the weeping Jade crabapple, and our glorious magnolias. The smaller of our rhododendrons is in bloom, and the tulips are outdoing themselves in splendid array and colour.

All's well with the forest and with our garden, everything flourishing as they would not, without seasonal rain to complement the sun.