This morning a little drama unfolded, with the little brown rat waiting patiently for his turn at the peanuts. First it was a little red squirrel who chased him away, then it was two black squirrels who had issues of their own against one another, unwilling to share the bounty and taking turns threatening the little brown rat. Eventually he took advantage of a quiet moment to claim his portion. Remember Rattie from Wind in the Willows?

Last night after the usual visit by the mother raccoon with her five offspring and later two older juveniles, the smallest of the raccoon kits we've yet seen this summer came along on his own to camp awhile on the porch to scoop up his share of peanuts. We wonder about this little guy, he's so young and small. Is he an orphan? Is he the one who sometimes accompanies the five kits with their mother, distinguished from them because he's smaller, darker, with a grey mask, not white like theirs? Is he bringing himself up with no elder to nurture and teach him? We'll never know.

We had quite a bit of rain fall overnight but by morning a window of opportunity arose and out we went with Jackie and Jillie; not far, only to the backyard. After breakfast, their favourite because on Sundays they get French toast just like us after their kibble, the rain started up again and didn't it pour! The house became quite, quite dark and the rain just kept flushing out of dark clouds overhead.

Finally by mid-afternoon the rain lifted and the sun came out fitfully between further episodes of light drizzle, until it stopped completely. That's when I was finished with my housework and preparing cheese blintzes and cherry compote. It's all refrigerated, waiting to be brought out and finished by a trip to a buttery frypan at dinnertime. 

Launching ourselves into the ravine we entered a dark green world of trees well drenched, their foliage glistening and occasionally dripping. At the junction of several trails where we veer off beside the creek, the water tumbled furiously downstream, hurling itself toward other creeks and streams all destined to reach the Ottawa River. Today it's a boisterous stream, while mostly during the summer months it's demure and in decline.

 

And beside the bank we noticed a bright ball of berries, mostly green, some of the berries orange on their way to bright red. Below the berries, the remnants of a spring-flowering Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Once completely red and soft the berries represent the plant's bid for propagation. In the past ten years we've seen quite a few Jacks popping up where none had appeared previously.

While we were out in the forest the sun plucked up the courage to defy the streaky dark clouds and peeked at us now and again. But it wasn't to have its way today floating in a clear blue sky. Through the forest canopy gathering clouds darkening the atmosphere kept building, and we hazarded that we'd be lucky to return home before rain started up again.

We were lucky, no rain interrupted our idyll. And when we returned home, the garden welcomed us, always cheerful, always glad to see us, glad to spend some time with us, and we with it.