We really are getting fairly parched here, we could use some rain, actually lots of it. We keep getting weather forecasts from Environment Canada assuring us that there's a significant percentage-potential for rain, for showers, for thunderstorms, and none appear. We would welcome any of them enthusiastically, and all outdoor vegetation even more so.

Another hot day, although not as muggy as yesterday, just hot with the sun streaming relentlessly through clear skies, relieved by a generous cooling wind that even followed us this afternoon into the forest. Early enough in the day so it was not yet suffocatingly hot, we did a little weeding, watering and tying up clematis vines in the garden. And Irving set about filling garden pots in the backyard with fresh garden soil, sheep manure and peat moss, so I can proceed with the planting.

He assessed the quantity of plants I have in stock (and I reminded him I've got some seed packets; nasturtiums grow quite quickly from seed) and declared them to be insufficient to the task. Mostly because he filled up more pots than I recommended be done, because he was on a roll, and had to 'empty' the wheelbarrow. So we put that aside and instead headed out to the ravine before the heat of mid-afternoon moved in, taking care to remember a water bottle for Jackie and Jillie.

They had come calling for us to get under way. They were fairly enthusiastic about accompanying us outside to the garden, but lost that good feeling about being out fairly quickly, given the micro-climate of the backyard permanently set to boil, whereas the front is merely on simmer and we spent more time in the back that the front gardens.

Finally, we prepared to be off, the air oppressive but dry, the sun baking our backs, and wind cooling our faces. Unlike yesterday when the wind decided it had no business in the forest interior, it changed its mind today and kept us company. Despite which, though some relief was to be had, it was hot. Even so, there are areas throughout the trails where we suddenly step into a cooler atmosphere and other places where it's hotter; elevation of course plays a role there.

For a change we stopped quite a few times to offer water to Jackie and Jillie, and while on some days they aren't all that interested, this afternoon each stop had them guzzling down cool water. Other people are more practical about the situation, allowing their dogs to stream directly for the cooling water of the ravine's creek. Even if we allowed our two to head for the water they'd refuse; for poodles they're fairly averse to getting wet.

The six dogs our friend the dogwalker looks after have no such thoughts of avoidance, they all head straight for the creek, it's obviously a highlight of their daily romp through the woods. They emerge sleek and dripping, shaking off the excess  so you'd be foolish to stand nearby. Clearly refreshed, however, the heat of their paws momentarily lifted. The water isn't very deep and a large dog can stand
half submerged, no more in most places, but happily relieved of the burden of enervating heat, however temporarily.

We've seen the Serviceberry trees in bloom now, but at a distance and not fully revealed. They tend to be smaller trees growing amidst the larger deciduous trees of the forest. It's likely they grow much more robust in Western Canada, where they're called Saskatoon berries, and used liberally for baking pies. In some parts of the forest a divine fragrance delights us; a combination of wild apple, hawthorn, cherry and serviceberry all in bloom. And dogwood too, of course beginning to come into bloom, and soon the honeysuckle will also be blooming.

Speaking of dogwood, there was a time when we saw quite a few little patches on the forest floor of ground dogwood, perhaps more familiarly known elsewhere as bunchberry. Those patches haven't been seen in years. But we did come across several specimens last year on the main trail that goes along the ridge of the ravine and as it happens, today Irving spotted one lonely little bunchberry in bloom, its pretty little white head all alone, surrounded by vegetation of the forest floor thriving where the bunchberry have vacated tenancy.