Glancing out the front door as we were going upstairs to bed last night we realized that Irving had overlooked placing a bungee on one of the garden urns flanking the porch covered with a plastic bag to overwinter without harm. The ferocious winds that snarled through the atmosphere all afternoon yesterday had picked up considerably by evening, and hauled the bag off the urn. So out he went into the tempest at midnight and corrected that oversight. 

There was heavy rain all throughout the night hours. By the time we woke in the morning and came back downstairs for breakfast, it still hadn't let up. The atmosphere was almost as dark as night and puddles of rainwater gathered in front of the porch and over to other parts of the front walkway. It didn't look as though it would be stopping any time soon, and it did not. A more dismal scene is difficult to conjure up. We thought it certain there would be no opportunity without rain to get Jackie and Jillie out for a walk.

As it turned out, we were wrong, and it's one of those (many) times when you find yourself glad to be wrong. Eventually the rain did stop, some light returned to the day and there were even some glorious sun escapes from behind the lingering clouds. Irving was busy on the  telephone, making arrangements for the car and the truck to be oil-trelled (vehicle undersides oiled to prevent winter-salting rust) for winter, for an oil change for both vehicles and both to have their tires/wheels changed from all-weather to ice tires. 

With the exception of oiling the undercarriage of the vehicles, these were things he used to do himself. I finally, finally prevailed upon him to discontinue that; too arduous, too dangerous for a man in his mid-80s. Much to my relief, he finally agreed, although he told me he had been re-considering and thought he might revert to doing the oil change and tire changes himself. 

I was busy in the kitchen, as usual, kneading up a cheese-bread dough for later use. Given a choice of cheesecake or butter tarts, Irving chose the tarts, cautioning me that he'd prefer them runny. Since I don't, I baked them good and firm as I prefer them; not as messy and just as good tasting. Then I put on a chicken soup to simmer, cleaned up the kitchen, and called him upstairs from his basement workshop where he was working on his latest stained glass window, and we prepared to get out with the puppies.

The sky was partially cleared by then, there were some beautiful blue patches sans cloud, and from time to time, out came the sun! It was cold at a suspicious 8C, with little wind in contrast to yesterday's icy, howling wind. But it was also damp and in the ravine the overnight -1C effect tends to linger so we dressed well and wern't sorry for it, as we tramped through the woods.

Everything was dripping. The creek was in full run, swollen from copious rain. The forest floor that was unable to absorb the last rain event similar to this one about a week ago, hosted great pools of rainwater. On the trails, smaller pools had accumulated. But the footing was excellent, not at all slippery and we had no trouble either ascending or descending the hillsides. Jackie and Jillie got their cookie treats on cue, and moseyed about sniffing here and there.

We wondered what might have happened to the small goldfish we had seen in the creek under one of the bridges and concluded that the force of the deep, fast-running stream would have taken them elsewhere along its course. We'll no doubt see them or their counterparts again before long. We do know that although we see only a handful of larger, bright orange fish, there are hundreds of much smaller fry, but black, and difficult to spot in the often-turbulent water.

By the time we turned our way to the final loop of our circuit, the sun was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds, and it was beginning to set; dusk wouldn't be long in darkening the forest interior. Once again we were grateful that nature delivers a bit of everything, mostly in moderation.