It was tough getting out of bed this morning. Possibly because we shared a too-warm and restless night. Possibly because Jillie was wedged under my arm and Jackie in the crook of one of my legs. How'd they get there? Jackie seems light as a feather. His sister as heavy as a good-sized boulder. 

Well, we did get up finally. Not all that later than usual. It seemed warm and humid but the sun was out. Perceptions faulty, playing tricks on us. But not so fast; we'd soon learn that the sun's appearance was but a brief interval and soon clouds moved in with all their baggage, like unexpected relatives you've got to scramble to find room for and accommodate. 

The baggage in this instance was meant to be shared. By anyone or anything beneath the clouds. Happily the distribution waited until we arrived back home after our ravine ramble. One of those early morning (all right, not that early but well before nine a.m.) courses through the forest trails where Jackie and Jillie are convinced there are others out and about but not in our near vicinity, and we don't, in fact, happen to come across anyone.

Truth was, while we thoroughly enjoyed meeting up with so many of our friends yesterday morning, we just weren't in the mood to stand around talking to anyone this morning. So when Charlie sauntered by her long hair dripping from a dip in the creek and Dan followed soon afterward, leaning on one of his walking sticks that he so loves to carve while his back rested against a tree, obviously prepared for a prolonged chat, we indulged him briefly then made our departure.

Found another apple sitting on the trail, but though we look up and into and under the wild apple trees this year we cannot really see any kind of harvest. Any trace of any apples at all, in fact. But there was this little apple, partially red, so obviously ripe, but the puppies were disinterested. There had been ample spring blossoms on the apple trees, and we did see a fair number of bees around, so the puzzle of the absent apples is one we won't be solving any time soon.

My husband thinks an overnight early spring frost or two might have been the cause. And for all we know, it's possible that the forest squirrels of which there are ample, might be gobbling up immature fruit. We know that's what happened to the hazelnuts. And we've seen quite a lot of squirrels about, black, grey and red.

It's the red squirrels who have a scolding complex. They're born with it, love to indulge in episodes of long, drawn-out chattering, complaining about the presence of non-forest-residents, where none should be. Their message is that the forest atmosphere is quietly serene -- until humans enter and disrupt everything. We've pointed out to them that their incessant chattering scolding routine disrupts the quiet, but they just look at us with absolute scorn.

We decided this morning that since the overcast and a nice little breeze was keeping the morning atmosphere relatively cool, we'd take another trail where the forest opens up and there are a few meadow-like areas alongside that portion of the creek. We occasionally take that route. Mostly because there wildflowers -- more exposed to the sun -- proliferate.

And do they ever! We came across black-eyed Susans, fleabane, daisies, Queen Anne's lace, goldenrod, purple loosestrife, and not to be overlooked, Himalayan orchids. It was like opening a treasure chest and being taken aback at all the jewels sparkling within. The sight surpassed my expectations. We kept seeing different little colonies devoted to each of the wildflower types.

Also beside the creek a few small chokecherry trees have grown. Even the small ones blossomed this spring and now chokecherries dangle from their branches, bright cheerful red.

A bit of excitement for me. My husband is almost as enchanted as I am at the sight of all these colourful, robustly beautiful wildflowers in such abundance. Jackie and Jillie nonchalantly sniff about here and there and declare the venue acceptable. 

And then, once we've exhausted the number of discrete colonies devoted to the various types of wildflowers, we turn back to the trail to mount the way back to street level.