The last two days have turned from drenching non-stop rain to full sun, king of the wide, blue sky. All outside spaces are completely saturated. In the garden, the vegetation is uncertain whether to celebrate or to mourn. Most plants are thriving wonderfully. But there are some that look fairly woeful as a result of the copious rainfalls.

Jack-in-the-Pulpit

Our two little weeping flowering peas are losing their tiny leaves at a fairly good clip, and what remains on the trees is covered with powdery mildew. I can only hope it will be reversed when everything finally manages to dry off. Can't complain about the wind, there's a nice breeze helping in the process, and the sun is warm at 22C in ambient temperature.

When we were out with Jackie and Jillie yesterday afternoon tramping through the woods the trail which had finally reversed from its fairly dry condition, reached after months of slippery, mucky condition in recent weeks saw thick muck retrenched as a result of the incessant downpours. Speaking of which, though rain consumed most of the day, we always managed serendipitously to find an hour or so in the afternoon enabling us to get out in light rain, or a brief cessation of rain.

Now, when we return from our hikes in the woods with jackie and Jillie we're back to washing their little paws repeatedly before we can succeed in removing the inky-black mud from their feet. Black detritus kicked up by their nimble feet as they travel along the trails finds itself ensconced in their haircoat even though it's short. It's amazing the amount of it that falls off once we get them into the house and begin to groom them so the house isn't completely overtaken with woody bits and pieces from the forest.

Still, our forays into the ravine along the forest trails continues to consume our interest over what we'll find next awaiting our discovery. And so, when we came across cowvetch mature enough to be in full bloom we thought it remarkable, but it's yet another instance of what all the rain has achieved.

Although the bunchberries are not yet in full bloom, we've come across discrete little patches of them, and their bright white, distinctive little heads are hard to miss. There are other volunteers in nature's varied springtime garden. Buttercups are now beginning to bloom. They are, however, the most difficult of flowers to capture in a photograph, since for some reason their brilliant yellow faces always turn out green.

Wild strawberries are blooming everywhere on the forest floor now. Looks as though it will be a bumper crop for those tiny, luscious berries. The flowers are as lovely as the berries they turn into are delicious-tasting. And it's nice that the much earlier-blooming Jack-in-the-Pulpits too are still around, mature, but as perky as any new-blooming flower could be.

We're seeing far fewer people generally in and about in the ravine. And that's understandable since not everyone wants to encounter mosquitoes and treacherous, slippery downhill trails. We don't use insect repellent, but we do cover up with cotton long-sleeved shirts, taking care to avoid dark colours, and that helps.

We did once buy a special repellent to be used for dogs, and I recall in the distant past having to use it for Button and Riley, but unless we find ourselves in thick swarms of black flies or mosquitoes we'll just manage without the stuff, either for ourselves or for Jackie and Jillie. They too are aware of the presence of nasty little blood-sucking creatures but they haven't yet been in a situation where their presence has been troublesome enough to use chemicals on them.

They are, though, treated for ticks and heartworm as well as fleas and all manner of nasty infections and pathogens. Which makes us wonder sometimes that veterinarians emphasize a little too greatly the potential for our companions to become infected with dire health conditions so that we pump them full of all kinds of chemical agents.