She came along in her own good time. It was well before midnight this time, and teeming rain. And it rained all night and well into the morning. But Mamma raccoon was there on the porch. Eventually joined by her babies, one after the other settled down beside her to paw up peanuts. A few more restless jockeyed themselves around to do a little bit of familiarizing themselves with this strange new place so unlike the forest. When they arrive, they pass between the balustrades of the porch surround, entering under the old wrought-iron bench. One spurns this easy way, and instead clambers onto the bench and sits there momentarily glancing down at Mamma and siblings. Then hesitantly tries several times to muster the courage to drop below to join them. Eventually he does but on the way to doing so it's evident that he's cautiously insecure.

This time around I was determined to come away with some evidence of their presence. I wanted to send a photograph along to our granddaughter. My little Canon failed in its mission two nights before; all I came away with was black frames. So I hauled out the Nikon and it performed somewhat better. I was at least able to come away with a semblance of a photograph; not clearly distinct, but notionally sufficient.

Whaaaat!! Just a half-cookie apiece?

The following day was replete with ongoing rain. Although the high temperature got up only to 23C, the atmosphere was sodden. Whenever the rain seemed to relent, it would change its mind and open up the floodgates again. Irving had gone out after breakfast to give the porch a good scrub-down. It looked pretty unkempt. We keep sweeping it but in view of the constant outlays of edible treats for local wildlife, it gathers detritus like nobody's business. So he took out the seldom-used leaf-blower to suck up bits of detritus that the broom leaves behind, and he used soapy water to scrub down the bricks. When he was finished out came the peanuts again. And along came the squirrels. And suddenly it once again resembled a pigsty.

In the afternoon a lull appeared and we decided to make a sprint for the ravine, tucking little raincoats for Jackie and Jillie into the capacious pockets of our own rainjackets. Everything was thoroughly drenched. There was an aluminum-coloured sky with streaks of dark clouds threatening another downpour. The forest was dripping with rain, the creek flush with the rushing, muddy flow downstream.

On the upper main trail, rainpuddles gave ample evidence that the forest had absorbed as much of the rain as it was able to manage. Although we took a shorter circuit than usual to avoid getting caught out in another vigorous downpour, we did take a side trail that led alongside the creek and on its banks enjoyed the sight of Black-eyed Susans in bloom, earlier than we can ever recall. Lots of daisies still in bloom, and fleabane.

 

Home again, the garden glowed with a deep green glaze of rain highlighting colour variations, immensely pleasing to the eye. With such an abundance of rain the garden has two choices; roots of tender plants can drown and rot, or wallow in the excess moisture and thrive. Some of our garden pots may lost a few of their inhabitants, but the balance will do just fine.