The Ottawa Valley is always the recipient of peculiar weather patterns, and the tradition continues. Early yesterday evening, preparing to fire up the barbecue for dinner, the sun was almost blinding as it shone through the sliding glass doors leading to the deck. It was at a level hours before setting, when it hangs in the sky at an angle where it glitters like a wildfire between the canopy on the deck and the privacy fencing.

And then, suddenly and literally out of the blue a blast of rain seemingly from out of nowhere which soon became a deluge. And all the while the sun shone. Wind and rain was so persistently at a slant that it swiftly inundated the entire deck, despite the canopy. It also, while it lasted, kept us from barbecuing until it had spent its fury.

That was at the back of the house. At the front of the house, on the porch, our friendly neighbourhood raccoon was visiting again, scooping up cereal deposited there for the squirrels and the birds, nonchalantly claiming his turn at the goodies. He, she, it or whatever or indeed perhaps many other hes, shes, and its, return through the noctural hours for the same purpose for when we come downstairs in the morning whatever has been put out the night before is completely gone. 

We came down to a sunny morning, however. Yesterday had been completely overcast until early evening when the sky turned blue and the sun blasted its illuminating warmth through the cool atmosphere. Which was also when that rainblast struck. But no rain in the forecast today, we were happy to hear and to read. All morning there was sun, and I was busy cleaning the house because that's the Monday schedule.

And then, while I was washing the floors everything turned suddenly dark and looking out at the horizon the reason became clear enough; scudding dark clouds bringing rain, forecast be damned. And down it came with a vengeance. By the time I was finished cleaning, the dark clouds had dissipated and the rain had stopped and there were a few peek-a-boo sun appearances.

So off we went on schedule for an afternoon amble through the ravine, on extremely wet and muddy trails. Not that Jackie and Jillie much care. They're just happy to be out in the forest, and so are we. And so were he few other people and their dogs we saw while we were negotiating the trails. We were prepared for more rain, but this time the sun insisted it was there to stay for the remainder of the day.

We saw the Mallard duck and drake in a different part of the creek today. Obviously the rain wouldn't have bothered them. They seem content to stick around, spending their time as ducks are wont to do. We're happy to see them making themselves quite at home, but just wonder what they might be eating in a watery runway that doesn't seem to be too productive, unless it's mostly algae that satisfies them and the odd insect larvae. 

Back home again we did a quick survey of the garden. There are buds popping up everywhere on the trees and shrubs, and some of the tulips are preparing to bloom. The trilliums in the garden have opened their flowers which is more than I can say for the ones in the forest. Our garden trilliums are close cousins to the forest trilliums since they had been transplanted into the garden from the forest.

The 'stone' garden urns and sculptures still have their winter-protective plastic covering them, and the large collection of other pots are still covered by a tarp, waiting to be rescued. Things are greening up slowly and as soon as the expected spate of frosty nights departs we'll have to release them to welcome the growing season.

The rain earlier in the day had splatted down so heavily it flayed a small group of bright yellow parrot tulips, the only ones in bloom yet. More soon to come. But before they do, there will be another unusual weather event, we heard on the news this morning. Today's temperature is a balmy 15C, but in the following few days it's set to drop and we may be in frost territory tonight. Um, and on Wednesday we've been alerted by the weather forecasters to expect snow.