We startled one another, me and the tiny rabbit. I was just passing by the front door, arms full of folded laundry to be taken upstairs when I did one of those double-takes and the movement was caught by the cautious little rabbit who reacted by standing straight and waiting to see more movement. I deposited the laundry, picked up my camera and in a second he was gone, that's all it takes. A blink of a moment like a lightning-strike. If he's not attentive to his surroundings he won't survive.

Quite unlike the reaction of a larger animal more equipped by nature to look after himself with claws and teeth and attitude, like the raccoons that come around to snack on the porch. The little rabbit's instincts do him well. He'll be back by and by to finish what he started, lured by the goodies sprinkled out for the squirrels and the birds.

We transited overnight from a very dry landscape to a dripping one. And it was most timely. We certainly needed rain, and finally, it arrived, weeping endlessly all night and into the morning hours. Everything is drenched and looking brightly colourful and happy about this irrigation event. The roses are scheduled to bloom and rain will increase the bloom with more buds developing. We took a tour of the garden this morning with Jackie and Jillie.

 Our old purple smoke tree is now blooming. Some seeds I had planted are finally poking tiny green shoots out of the soil. Everything looks fresh and illuminated, despite the heavily overcast skies through which the sun manages to spread light hues of brightness before being eclipsed time and again by darker, more aggressive clouds.

 One of our oldest rose bushes is now beginning to bloom, its light pink flowers dotting its generous foliage crown, and there's a lot more to follow; we've acquired quite a few roses; climbing and shrubs and carpet-types over the years. The Icelandic poppies with their tough, tough foliage are now blooming bright orange. The pink ones that struggled to bloom in the backyard got crowded out finally as competition grew and its opportunities to flourish diminished.

When we walked up the street to the ravine entrance this afternoon, the slight figure approaching in the opposite direction easily identified as a neighbour on the street behind us, Margaret, whose wan and frail presence grows ever more so each time we see her. She is faithful to her daily walks around the block in the interests of maintaining mobility; she is so light an errant breeze could carry her off.

The forest trees are bright with the verdant glow of new growth and all the more so with raindrops still clinging to the foliage. We had waited to leave the house until a large series of very dark threatening clouds passed, leaving lighter grey, not charcoal, clouds behind. And while we were out in the ravine trekking through the trails the sun peeped out from behind the dense cloud cover now and again. When it did, and where its beams penetrated the forest canopy, the heat was fierce, made even more so by the deep humidity.

We wore light rainjackets against the prospect of being caught out in another rainstorm, but as luck had it, our window of opportunity held and we had no need to quickly whip out little raincoats for Jackie and Jillie, bulging in our pockets. The likelihood of continuing rain appears to have kept other hikers out of the woods today, so we had the forest, in effect, to ourselves, no occasion for Jackie and Jillie to yap furiously at other dogs or happily greet other people for notice and admiration.

Back home again, we wandered briefly through the front garden, admiring the roses, noting how comfortable all the garden beds now appear, the garden pots and urns well conditioned and their contents maturing at an impressive pace. 

Later, Jackie and Jillie monitored me anxiously in the kitchen as I cut up little pieces of cauliflower, snow peas, bell pepper and tomatoes for their afternoon vegetable salad snack without which the day simply wouldn't be complete.