Before we reached the ravine entrance early yesterday morning, merely striding up the street toward  the beckoning forest we felt as though we were melting under the glare of a sun half-hidden behind what appeared most ominously to be storm clouds. Even the wind, such as it was, felt like a draft out of a hellish oven. When we reached the first hill to descend into the ravine there was some relief as we slipped into the shadow of the overhanging trees, but not much.

This would be a roaster of a day, we realized. And that's just what it turned out to be with afternoon temperatures exceeding 35C. By that time in the afternoon even a brief break from the relative coolness of the house interior to the backyard felt like a steambath on steroids.

So there was heat aplenty, and the clouds soon moved off revealing a fairly clear blue sky by the time we were half-way through our usual daily ravine circuit. Although the forest canopy is quite thick, sunlight shafts penetrate officiously; they know their rights in midsummer...

All of which makes for thriving vegetation in the forest. Raspberries are ripening nicely. True, they're extremely small, but they're still ripe, lusciously red and sweet. Jackie and Jillie are familiar with the treasures that can be found in the right places on the forest floor.

Although it's interesting, it's not quite a treasure, the ripening gelatinous-looking orange fungi resembling a pudding that we noticed a few days back, and still conceitedly showing off its bright shade of orange, as though mocking the sun. Not far from it, another has appeared. We can only surmise that what we see above-ground is nothing compared to the fungal presence underground.

There are thistles that have grown to a really impressive height this year, given all the spring rain and sun. And they're sporting numerous flowerheads on their many branchlets, now opening to reveal their bright little purple heads. Yet another wildflower decorating the forest, although this one comes armoured.

Dog strangling vine has colonized the forest floor the last decade, taking over from horsetails which once could be seen everywhere, and are now in decline. Neither is particularly attractive, but they are numerous. The vine has a penchant for vigorous growth as summer wears on, and it clambers possessively over all other vegetation, attaining height as it progresses around and about other plants, not quite stifling them, but certainly claiming entitlement to 'ornament' them without permission.

Also coming into bloom now is maturing mullein, their yellow flowers opening from the buds that grow on the considerable height of this understory forest plant. Bees and hoverflies tend to congregate around the mullein, flitting from one to another, picking up pollen and performing their vital work that nature has assigned them to.

There is a very old pine at the bottom of the first hill we descend into the ravine, and over the years a hollow which serves as a sometimes-nest in the winter for squirrels, transforms for wild bees into a hive, which has been attaining considerable height as the tree continues to grow. If we stand adjacent the tree on the slope we can make out a regular ingress and egress of the bees which make the hive its home. Last winter we discovered the tiny corpses of a multitude of bees lying scattered on the snow below the tree, as though something had scooped them out of the hive and tossed them out.

As usual, once we've had the opportunity to ramble about through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie, on arriving back home we briefly roam about our own garden to assess activity there and admire the bright insouciance of the annuals enjoying their own time in the sun. We held off doing any watering on the chance that the weather forecast would be correct and we'd have some thunderstorms.

And they did materialize in mid-afternoon, a series of rolling, loud-clapping thunderstorms inundating the entire landscape, repeatedly renewing themselves, darkening the house and splashing their flood-like excess against the windows, offering a respite from the extreme heat and a cleansing drink to the plants just as they might have been wondering if they'd see any relief from the day's hothouse conditions.