We thought: how wonderful, no rain! That was when we were packing up the truck with all our stuff to return home. True, it was overcast, but it was also cool and it seemed as though we might, just might be able to take the drive home without any concerns about driving rain impeding our progress. As far as 'progress' was concerned, we'd decided to take two-lane highways back, avoiding the boring Interstates, prepared to sacrifice efficiency for interesting sights.

By the time we'd left the cottage in the Waterville Valley and reached Franconia Notch, serious dark clouds had gathered and the rain began. It wouldn't relent for hours. We entered one heavy squall after another. And of course, there were others on the road besides us, and transport trucks kick up a whole lot of water, sending it in spurting gushes behind them to engulf the vehicles following in their wake.

Moreover, in those conditions where visibility becomes very limited the opportunity to pass is pretty compromised. It wasn't, by any means, a boring drive. We could still see Eagles Cliff and Mount Lafayette as we drove through the Notch, as well as the Basin, which we'd visited a few days earlier, clambering up the soggy, root-and-boulder-strewn trail to reach the various points on the smooth granite outcropping of the mountain, in awe at the power of the water tumbling downstream toward the Pemigewasset River.

Jackie and Jillie settled down between us on the front seats of the truck, able to do so because my husband had stretched an outdoor lawn cushion between the bucket seats. Jillie insists on laying her head on my husband's lap; that's 'her' place. While Jackie mostly sits on my lap, peering intently out the windshield and occasionally the side window, at the passing scenery. Until he too nods off to sleep, half on me, half on the cushion. They're good travellers.

We drove from New Hampshire to Vermont and finally New York to enter Ontario by way of Cornwall, to avoid Quebec and above all, Montreal. We usually take the new No.30 highway that bypasses Montreal, but because this was the week that the new Samuel de Champlain Bridge opened, we felt the highways there would be chaotic and congested.

Rain kept us close company for a good long time, relenting gradually only by the time we reached New York State and then slacked off, and finally stopped through Ontario. Before we had left Vermont we stopped at a state rest stop to have brunch that I'd packed before we left the cottage. It's a great rest stop. One thing you can rely on the New England States for, is providing decently attractive, clean rest stops for travellers.

And you can rely on Quebec to close the rest stops it once operated, offering no relief for travellers. Just as the nearby States cordially and civilly offer road instructions in French for the convenience of tourists from Quebec, La Belle Province reciprocates by ignoring the needs of English-speakers, proffering signage exclusively in French.

Since it was raining heavily we were unable to use the nifty new picnic tables and benches for our brunch, and were confined to eating in the truck. We had peaches and bananas, egg-salad sandwich for my husband, and peanut butter on grainy bread for me. As well as thermal carafes of tea for me, coffee for my husband, which he always prepares. Jackie and Jillie shared some of the peach, gave the bananas a pass, and went for the egg-salad, though I had reserved an intact hard-boiled egg to split between the little pigs, which they gobbled up.

The drive did afford us the opportunity to pass through some picturesque little towns, to admire quite a few landscapes, heritage buildings, and on occasion feel pretty sad about signs of local poverty. As anywhere else there are the financially privileged and the economically fragile living in close proximity. We passed wind farms, still unaccustomed to seeing those large, awkwardly alien-looking energy sources that people complain bitterly reduces their quality of life, in situations of close proximity. Not to mention the carnage wrought on bird life.

By the time we were close to home we were certain that the puppies 'recognized' some familiar hallmarks of home. Actually, when we had arrived at the cottage in the Waterville Valley they knew where they were, recognizing a place they have temporarily lived in with us on previous occasions, spring and fall. When they entered our house on our arrival home they were almost delirious with excitement.

And it was how I felt, looking at the garden. Our absence was only a week in duration but what a change in the garden. Clearly, it had rained throughout that week, just as it had where we were in New Hampshire. Our climbing roses were in full bloom, and so were my very favourite clematises. The garden looked as happy to welcome us home as we felt to return home.