Because I had bread dough sitting in the refrigerator, prepared two days earlier when I was busy in the kitchen baking, I thought I'd turn it into panzerotto for dinner. So, rolled it into rounds, spread it with tomato paste, sprinkled over sweet basil and garlic powder, and grated Parmesan and Mozzarello over. Then topped that with anchovies and pepperoni, chopped bell pepper, mushrooms and tomatoes. Twenty-five minutes later we were sitting down to enjoy them piping hot. A riff on pizza, everyone's favourite.

For a change it hadn't rained yesterday afternoon or evening. It waited for the night hours. And when we awoke the sky was threatening rain and soon made its threat a reality. Which is why, this morning we had no early walk, but set out in a lull in the weather, at half-past eleven. We never eat lunch, just breakfast and dinner, so the time is never a problem for us.

 

But because the dripping had just stopped and ragged grey clouds kept scudding across the sky, we wore rainjackets and so did Jackie and Jillie. When we got out on the street there was a tempestuous wind blowing in our faces, but it was surprisingly warm, unlike the past several days. We were uncommonly comfortable. Despite our rainjackets we weren't certain how long to commit to the forest trails, whether a shorter circuit was in order for today to avoid an inundation.

 

But when we reached that part of the circuit when we could have chosen to make a really truncated hike the mood of the weather seemed to lift and to our astonishment the sun teased us for a brief moment. Off came Jackie and Jillie's jackets, through they weren't complaining. And the decision to forge on and forgo the opportunity for a short circuit in fear of a downpour was set aside.

 

And we began to notice the presence of an awful lot of fungi. Shelf fungi on the trunks of ailing trees and old stumps. On one old stump the fungi grew in beautiful array looking just like creamy wafers set out by a thoughtful hostess for her guests to enjoy. We admired the offering but thanked our hostess and moved on.

 

The array of mushrooms popping up out of the rain-saturated soil seemed endless. Magical even. Like a bit of a fairyland, and the landscape put us in mind of what a mycologist might do exposed to seeing them as we did, not knowing quite where to look first, not wanting to miss anything. There were some mushrooms that were white, others mud-coloured, and others yet the softest most lovely yellow.

 

Some few had been nibbled and evidently not found entirely wanting, but the wildlife have ample seeds and nuts to select from this year. It's not beyond one's imagination, however, to think of squirrels enjoying variety in their diet. Some of the larger mushrooms had been upended, others pulled right out, little scenes of mayhem. 

 

Jackie and Jillie busied themselves sniffing and snuffling about, while we peered here and there, carefully creeping along the interior forest floor, conscious of the delicate vegetation we were passing over and choosing to tread with caution in our effort to get even closer to these marvels of nature. My husband spotted what he thought were tiny berries until he looked closer and realized that the tiny red round objects were in fact newly-emerged bright red mushrooms.

 

When we finally left the ravine we had experienced a short bit of light rain pattering through the foliage, and another brief appearance of the sun. And as well a suddenly-dark curtain falling in the forest interior, harder wind gusts and a warning of the possibility of a heavy shower. It failed to materialize while we were out. And when we walked back down the street to the house the sky appeared as though it was ready to open its faucets.