We pried open one eye to cock it at the clock which didn't quite match the dusky gloom in the bedroom. No, it wasn't four in the morning, but eight. And still raining. So heavily we'd earlier had to close the window. We had hoped to take advantage of a cooling breeze, but what eventuated was a howling wind that hurled the rain into the bedroom. So, sigh, closed window.

Still raining? We turned our heads back comfortably into our pillows. Then Jillie did her whine, and Jackie his sharp bark, reminding us that this was indeed time, past time, to rouse our lazy bones out of bed. So we did. And went downstairs to study the situation. The situation was that the rain was still pounding heavily onto the metal canopy on the deck, there was a definite twilight atmosphere and the rain kept lashing against the glass doors, dripping down the screen door.

Not the very best of times to persuade Jackie and Jillie to go out into the backyard when we had the comfort of the bathroom to empty our bladders. And worse than that, there would be no ravine hike this morning. And given the forecast, it was likely we'd have to bypass any kind of foray into the forest trails today. Gloom settled to make its way into our prospects for the day.

And then, as we began setting the table for breakfast, suddenly the rain dripping off the canopy stopped entirely. Out went the puppies, up came our prospects, and we prepared ourselves to dash out for that forlorn hike through the forest. It was a world resembling an aquarium that greeted us, everything in the landscape completely drenched, the forest canopy steadily dripping, but we were delighted.

That nice breeze we were hoping to entice into our bedroom window for some relief from the heat that has compromised the comfort of the past week and a half, wafted rain-cool air over us, and then the sun discovered a crack in the armour of the cloud cover, and lit up the world, momentarily. Expressing in rather concrete terms exactly how we felt.

And off we went, down the hill into the ravine, into the confines of the dripping, Jade forest. The creek was as wide and full and thrashing, carrying twigs and branches in its sway as it would ever be during spring when the snowpack in the forest was in full melt. There were rapids and eddies and the water gurgled and sang and sped on its way, vacated from the hillsides, driven downstream by the force of its rain-resurgent dual purpose as a local storm-surge capacity raceway.

It soon became evident that we were not the only people in the community watching the skies and taking their cues from an open-window opportunity to get out while the opportunity presented. Others familiar to us out with their dogs passed us at one juncture, only to meet up with us once again at another, mostly because they chose a short circuit on the upper surface of the forest and we're committed to a longer one that encompasses the ravine itself.

Not once did it appear likely that the heavens would once again open up. We hadn't this time taken the precaution of carrying along rainjackets for Jackie and Jillie, much less for ourselves. Truth is when the ambient temperature is so over-heated with such a high degree of humidity, a little rainshower wouldn't be entirely unwelcome as a cooling device.

But that didn't happen, and there were no complaints from us. Back home we trotted, Jackie and Jillie eager for breakfast. And since it's Sunday, breakfast is prolonged and pre-ordained; a half-melon sliced between us, banana each, and French toast and breakfast sausages augmented by tea and coffee. In their kibble, the puppies also get pieces of melon, and chicken left over from Friday night.

What they're really waiting anxiously for, though, is their share of the French toast and sausages. It's Sunday, after all!