By four in the morning the night before last we became aware that there was a drenching downpour in full action outside our bedroom windows. We keep our upstairs windows open at night to catch any stray night breezes for their cooling effect and of course the unmistakable sound of heavy rain penetrates our consciousness if it's sufficiently emphatic. We mumbled to one another that the garden would be pleased and turned over, back to sleep.

When we finally awoke to greet the dawn not too many hours later it was still raining, so we turned over again. Finally up just before eight it was clear by then that we were in for a rainy day necessitating that we do a mental adjustment from the usual expectation that we would begin the morning with an energetic though relaxing ramble in the woods, to holding off until we could be assured we wouldn't be drowning in the woods.

The forecast had been for morning showers morphing into an 80 percent chance of afternoon thunderstorms. Showers, we always reason, can be dealt with by the forest canopy, even one drenched by hours of steady rain, but thunderstorms are far different; penetrating and with a tendency toward stormy violence in serious downpours. And these were no mere showers we were being treated to, but constant heavy rain throughout the morning hours.

When we looked out the front door, prospects for an outdoor adventure any time soon seemed pretty remote, so we resigned ourselves to the rare possibility that no ravine jaunt would be possible, yesterday. As it happened, our guests had chosen Wednesday to drive back to Toronto and a driving, incessant downpour certainly doesn't represent ideal driving conditions. But our daughter-in-law was expected back at her office the following day and that was that.

They left after breakfast and packing up their car, and we settled down to await a break in the weather. Upstairs, making up our bed, Jackie languished in a kind of doggy-despair that our routine had been interrupted, cocking his head at me as though to ask when we'd be leaving for our hike. I discovered where Jillie was when I walked down the hallway to see her little head pop up behind the top stair leading downstairs.

But the rain did stop. And we did get out. And Jackie and Jillie enjoyed the full opportunity to range about freely in the ravine, sharing it yesterday with no one else at the time we were out. All the vegetation glowed bright green, glazed with what looked like a thick layer of rainwater. From above excess rainwater dripped steadily. It was a sodden forest we strode through yesterday afternoon.

Tranquility and silence accompanied us through the forest trails. Not a sound out of our two puppies busy burying their snouts in plots of ferns and grasses we passed. Zipping ahead any time a squirrel momentarily appeared out from the forest and across the trail. We heard a pileated woodpecker hard at work in the distance, and the exquisite, high-noted melody of a cardinal floated over to us through the screen of the forest.

Although the temperature rose to only 22C it seemed infinitely warmer as a result of high humidity and no wind. The very act of letting our minds wander as we walk in a familiar rhythmic leisure over roots and rocks scattered here and there on the trails, seeing familiar landmarks as we pass, on occasion calling one or other of the puppies to return to the trail from their occasional sprint into the woods, is infinitely relaxing and familiarly reassuring that all is well with our little world within the greater world of misfortune and strife for so many others.