There are some dogs, for whatever reason, that are petrified by thunderstorms. None of ours ever has been. And I can't help wondering if that might be because they take their cue from us. We enjoy the sound and fury of thunderstorms. Correction: we enjoy them as long as we're in a secure, guaranteed-dry interior where we can watch the action of wind and rain and lightning and hear the raging fury of the storm in comfort. Nature manages that production very well, and we like to view the stage as an appreciative audience.

So when once again we had a nightlong series of thunderous claps and groans, lightning and heavy patter of rainfall slapping against the windows it was comforting. Once we are certain that the windows are canted enough not to allow the entry of rain, we just feel ourselves lulled back to sleep by the commotion outside.

It's not that there is no reaction from Jackie and Jillie. They tend to the emit same kind of wary reaction -- though restrained to a degree -- when they hear any sound they aren't certain what the origin might be. They will sound out short, muffled barks, (possibly, like us, welcoming such storms), and then as the storm nears and gains in sound and drama they too, like us, simply settle down. And back to sleep they go, too.

By morning the storms had exhausted the atmosphere. It was dark and sodden. The humidity level, despite a cool temperature in the mid-teens, was high and so of course it hardly felt cool at all. And since the morning forecast for the day claimed an 80 percent chance of both rainfall and thunderstorms we though we might as well venture out early before breakfast, to chance that no rain would occur while we were out.

A few others we came across yesterday morning traipsing through the forest trails had been struck with the same idea. And it was sopping wet, though the forest floor had nicely absorbed the rainfall and the trails were good and firm underfoot. Down by the creek the swollen waterway was muddy in appearance reflecting all the disturbed silt and detritus churned up by the roiling water.

The forest vegetation was well steeped in rainwater. In the dim dusky atmosphere of the forest interior foliage looked well glazed and lacquered with rain, and from the canopy above there was a steady drip of excess water draining onto the landscape. All of this lends an air of mystery to the forest environment. For Jackie and Jillie the bonus is that the sodden conditions tend to magnify odours that fascinate them.

When we were still a half-hour from the final third completion of our circuit the darkness lifted and out came the sun. Blue was beginning to separate the ragged, dark clouds and from time to time we couldn't be certain whether rain was preparing to inundate the forest again, or that the struggle for the sky to clear itself of the imminent threat of rain was gaining the initiative.

These forces of nature hadn't settled their argument by the time we exited the ravine and reached home.

The garden is always pleased when rain has relieved it of heat and dryness and it was no different then, as Jackie and Jillie padded about looking for something that might suddenly appear to excite their territorial outrage. Already a brisk wind and the intermittent appearance of sun was beginning to dry out the plants and the flowers. And, as things turned out, aside from a brief, light shower hours later the forecasted rain events with their large probability simply failed to arrive.