Although we took ourselves out for our daily amble through the forest trails earlier than usual yesterday, it was still too late, we hit the heat of the day. And yesterday's heat index went up to 32C. Wherever the sun penetrated through the forest canopy the atmosphere was truly overheated. We had planned to drive downtown from the Eastern Parkway to the Western Parkway to pay a visit to a shop we have frequented for many years, but haven't been at for quite a long time.

In the process we passed the Parliament buildings, now under years-long renovation. Due to the COVID pandemic and people advised not to travel, we were treated to the unusual sight of the complex of buildings devoid of the usual crush of sightseers. No packed buses parked inconveniently all over the place, no hordes of people from abroad come to look at the Gothic Revival architecture of the House of Commons.

At the stained glass store my husband picked up the lead he needs and looked around at the coloured glass to supplement whatever he has at home in his workshop, then we headed back home again. On the way, looking out over the broad expanse of the Ottawa River, we saw Canada geese and their young on the greensward. Despite the months of lockdown there's a lot of construction going on in the national capital.

Hot, it was hot and the air immobile, so we were hoping for rain. And rain we got. In the form of a thunderstorm, a fairly violent one, with ample clapping of thunder and bursting of electricity, and roaring waterfalls of rain. It began at five, and the rain continued on for another three hours, falling ferociously, accompanying winds roaring through the landscape. Our dinner barbecue plans had gone awry. For that matter so did our evening leisure of reading and watching old detective series when suddenly around 9:00 everything went dark and remained that way long after we'd gone up to bed.

My husband is nothing if not resourceful and prepared for all exigencies. He immediately thrust a flashlight into my hand, then got out candelabra and candles and brought up a couple of old 19th Century glass kerosene lamps and set them about to once again light up our world. No electricity but batteries and good old-fashioned lamps with wicks and chimneys to throw us enough light to peer at the printed word.

When we awoke in the morning my husband suggested, since we were heading for another hot day -- this time 34C -- that we venture out for our daily ramble through the ravine before breakfast. So, Jackie and Jillie hauling us in tow, off we went into the steaming ravine, well and truly drenched from hours of heavy rain the night before. Steaming it was, for it was already hot at 28C at 7:00 in the morning, and mist rose everywhere in the forest. The sun, penetrating the now-leafy canopy struggled to burn off the mist.

The resulting scene of mist and broad shafts of sunlight cutting through the mist was one of ethereal, breathtaking beauty. To which Jackie and Jillie were oblivious, but we were not. They are constantly on the alert to determine whether there's anyone or anything else moving about through the forest. We did come across one couple evidently not averse to getting out early, with their dog, a playful cross between a boxer and perhaps a pit bull we've seen before, curious about everything, still a pup at just a year old.

Other than those three doing precisely what we were determined to do, avoid the real heat of the afternoon and still access an enjoyable daily tramp through the woods into our itinerary, we saw no one else. All was still and serene. A ravishingly beautiful landscape, vibrant and green and sunlit yet mystically veiled in a delicate grey mist.