The conditions and their juxtapositions that make for weather can sometimes be really strange. You wouldn't think that extreme cold coupled with a wild snowstorm would call up thunder, but we've experienced that while out snowshoeing in a wilderness forest area many years ago. We've been canoe camping in August and watched as a sheet of heavy rain slowly approached our camping spot closing in across the lake where we were high and dry, and then completely drenched.

We've seen drenching pockets of rain that were contained within a very small area and just outside that extremely limited area everything was dry, untouched by rain. We've watched, fascinated, on occasion, as rain came down from somewhere, belying the clear blue sky above. And yesterday morning dawned clear and sunny with light clouds just beginning to enter the skyscape, but off in the distance.

And despite full sunshine and blue sky where we were situated, the sun melting a small accumulation of snow that previous snowstorms had deposited on the metal roof of the canopy sitting over our deck, all around snow was coming down, ostensibly out of that lovely blue sky. Nature can never be underestimated to do the unexpected.

And, when we entered the ravine yesterday for our intended daily hike through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie we certainly didn't expect to see signage from the municipality bringing to the attention of all and sundry that the trail system leading out from the street we live on would be temporarily closed, from this coming Thursday to the following Thursday. For geological inspection.

We needn't have been surprised. Ever since the major hillslide that took place several springs ago requiring remedial work costing millions of dollars, surveys have been undertaken to test the stability of the geology where the ravine sits. Mind, it isn't only the ravine, it's the entire area encompassing this part of Ontario and across the border into Quebec. The base is Leda clay known for its instability.

And the reason the municipality spent so much money, time and contracted-out labour bringing in great earth-moving and tracked excavators and had pile-drivers insert long metal rods down to an incredible depth to hit the underlying rockface was because the creek running through the bottom of the ravine is part of the stormsewer and emergency system for this part of the city, The collapsed hill had blocked the creek and the backup had created a lake that beavers swiftly moved into, destroying its utility as a conduit for stormwater.

Ever since, this particular area of the ravine adjacent to where we live has been under close scrutiny, trails bypassed, other trails temporarily opened, and now another survey closing off our main trail is to take place. For a week, the signage tells us, but it would be wrong, judging from past experiences. It will take them, in all likelihood, much, much longer. So it's up to us to find an alternate route into the ravine and the forest trails that will suit our purpose until passage to our own trail is restored.

Gloom. In any event, that's a few days off, yet. And in the meanwhile, we're just moseying along with the tide of more current opportunity, as it were. A little bit of inconvenience can be countenanced; at least we'll have access using other routes into the forest. It won't be an entirely new experience for us; when construction crews with their heavy machinery inundated the ravine years back to build new bridges, we were similarly constrained and sought out alternates. After which the ravine that we'd been familiar with for countless years was never quite the same again.

Major trails had been widened to accommodate the passage of tracked vehicles used in the bridge-building process. And we gradually became accustomed to the new, intrusive look of the forest with its wider passages which seemed to invite a wider response from the community bordering on the ravine, bringing more people into the forest to enjoy what nature has offered.