Sometimes things work out that way. We knew it would be a corker of a day. But, first things first. Our usual early morning romp through the ravine would have to wait today. In the interests of getting the food shopping done before crowds descended as the day wore on. So we were there when the supermarket doors were opened, wandered the aisles in the directions demanded, peered at shelves that had all at some time in the past week been switched around to confuse people accustomed to orderly habit and serving annoyingly to lengthen their shopping experience, then left with all the food two people and two little dogs would consume for the next two weeks.

 

We've given thought to returning to our usual once-a-week food shopping, but haven't yet made up our minds. My husband always slips out briefly to replenish our larder with fresh fruits and vegetables before the two-week period is up. So it makes more sense to return to old shopping habits to secure fresh whole foods weekly. Fear of too-frequent exposure during this time of SARS-CoV-2 has upended lives in many ways. This little dilemma of ours is the least of most people's concerns.

But it did mean that our early morning walk would have to be suspended until later in the day. A 31-C day of searing heat and suffocating humidity. Even the good brisk wind that shuffled the overheated air around did little good on this occasion. And we weren't able to get out until early afternoon. Because we weren't about to surrender our long leisurely breakfast to a hurried repast. And I don't like leaving the house until the kitchen has been cleaned up.

 

Oh, the powder room too. And our bed made up. And all that takes time, not much time, but time. And then only do I feel inclined to exit the house for any reason. The puppies, well aware that they had missed their usual morning walk were anxious to get out. Little did they realize what they'd be getting out into. An over-heated ambiance like none other; a firestorm of heat embraced us as we meandered up the street to the ravine entrance.

Stifling-hot it was, with a short-lived sense of relief as we entered the forest. Before we got very far we came across two women walking with four little dogs, a mother and daughter toy poodle, a tiny maltese and a slightly larger poodle mix, the most admirable little gang of fluffy dogs imaginable. Sometimes it just happens that you end up speaking at length -- and in this case, given the overheated atmosphere much too lengthy -- with people you've met for the first time.

 

The air was so gaspingly close and searing we took steps to briskly pass through any areas on the trails where the sun penetrated, and then lingered with relief on those trails where in the shade of the forest canopy and the pitiful efforts of the wind, we obtained slight relief. On this day of exhausting effort in a challenging atmosphere, Jackie deigned to drink some cooling water. Jillie can always be relied upon to respond enthusiastically when water is on offer, Jackie usually spurns it.

Later, back at  home, we felt truly bushed from a trail hike that usually leaves us barely acknowledging the effort it takes. And though I had meant to go right back out with a concoction I had put together consisting mostly of salt melted in vinegar to give our cobbles a 'weed-riddance' treatment, I was unable to persuade myself that I really, really meant to do it then and there, choosing instead to collapse on the sofa and read the newspapers.

And then the first of a series of storms closed in with a resounding, mellow and deep !boom!. A sound that never fails to worry Jackie and Jillie, though they're reasonable about it. They bark, warning the originator of the sound that they're not about to take any kind of foolishness imposed upon them. And when the rain finally bursts on the landscape, and I watch from the front door, they look at me quizzically as though to ask what's going on?