Since we're such inveterate outdoors people we always tune in first thing in the morning to the weather forecast for the day. It helps enormously, needless to say, with our intention to avoid really inclement weather when we're planning our outdoor forays for the day. Nature pre-empted the need to do that yesterday morning.

We woke to a dark morning, with rain plummeting from the heavens in an uninterrupted display of atmospheric conditions and command of the environment. As we looked outside it was to see the more tender of the garden plants bedraggled with the weight of the moisture that kept accumulating. Yet in the time it took us to set the table for breakfast and make the initial preparations to produce said breakfast, the rain stopped.

And then we listened to the forecast. Hot and muggy for the afternoon, back up to 30C, with rain events now and again, including the likelihood of thunderstorms. It was now, it appeared, or never, so on with the collars and halters for Jackie and Jillie, and off we went up the street to enter the forest by descending the first of the hills into the ravine.

The canopy was utterly drenched, and continued to divest of rain as we delved into the woods, as it would for the next hour or so. And it became ever duskier the deeper we entered the forest confines. Before entering, in fact, the forest trail resembles a tunnel into a dark and mysterious world of nature. Despite which, Once we've immersed ourselves in the woods, the dark and the moisture that had inundated the forest served to brighten all the colours, giving them depth and vibrancy that is absent under dry conditions.

Jackie and Jillie informed us halfway through our circuit that Dan and Charley, our old acquaintances were approaching. Of course we had no idea who was coming our way as our two puppies dashed ahead furiously barking their usual style of greeting. Soon enough Charley appeared, as shaggy as ever and as glad as ever to see old friends. They, however, were the only other people/dogs we came across through the duration of our hike.

The cracks that appear on the forest floor -- a forest floor comprised of Leda clay -- are not readily appeased when rainfall dispels the dry conditions that prevailed as it did last week. We've had ample rain since then, yet the cracks remain. And despite the abundance of newfallen rain, foliage seems adamant in its certainty that fall is approaching. Now and again we'll come across discrete patches of foliage, or a branch displaying its acknowledgement that winter lurks behind fall, the season that is busy nudging summer to depart.

It will be a time when, on looking out at the garden from the interior of the house we will no longer see vibrant, pleasing colour. Much less the shapes and texture of a mature garden, with late-summer perennials in bloom alongside the ever-blooming annuals that visit for the season. Many of the annuals have already long since overreached themselves.

I observe the garden pots to pass judgement on my choice of flowers and arrangements to fill them, to find faults here and there, and tell myself I'll remember to do things differently next spring. Sometimes I will recall those errors and make amends, and sometimes I repeat the same misadventure in ill selections and pairings of plants.

Whatever the situation, we're pleased with what we end up with, since it all provides its own version of seasonal beauty at our service. The challenge is always there to help the garden produce the best ever presentation of a choice selection of flowering plants and the excitement of pleasure that meets our critical and appreciative eyes when we amble through the garden, losing ourselves in the sheer emotion of gratitude for the grace and loveliness that surrounds us.