Nature is nothing if not impetuously mercurial. How else to explain yesterday's cold, windy, wet weather following a week of hot, humid and sunny days? From the moment we came downstairs for breakfast on went the fireplace to induce a bit of warmth on a dark day that would see no sun and consequently the house felt like an icebox. Nor did we find any point during the day when we could dispense with the dancing flames in the fireplace. As a remedy, dinner last night did not reflect the lighter meals that fine weather demands.

 

Only a sirloin point roast, a Yorkshire pudding and asparagus spears would do to comfort our shivering, summer-acclimated bodies. For dessert red grapes, cold, crunchy and sweet to counter that stuffed feeling when you've eaten too much. So when we came downstairs this morning to start the day, nature had relented and given us a sunny day, one that speedily warmed up to 20C, as compared to yesterday's 10C.

 

Today, I thought why not bake those familiar old staples that hearked back to our childhood when our mothers bought blueberry buns as a treat. All it takes is a yeast-raised sweet dough and blueberries cooked to a thickened consistency, so that's exactly what I did. Of course the test of success is in the flavour and that's yet to be determined at dinnertime.

 

We took ourselves out to the ravine a little earlier this afternoon than usual, since I also wanted to spend some time in the garden, this time to complete filling the pots and urns with awaiting annuals. Nice to shed our jackets. Even Jackie and Jillie were happy to be relieved of the rainjackets yesterday's weather forced on them.

 

In the ravine some areas looked completely dry, while others were steeped in mud. The gathering heat of the day somewhat relieved by the forest interior's full shade restored by the newly leaf-filled canopy. All the apple trees and the hawthorns as well as the cherry trees are in full bloom, the dogwood following close behind.

 

These are the waning days for the trout lilies now that the sun can only filter through sporadically,so they're making the most of their brief time of glory, just on the cusp of fading out. Trilliums too have seen better days, their bright scarlet petals turning a dusty dark pink as they fade. But the foamflower, later blooming and feeling just fine in the shade, is now in full bloom.

 

Mosquitoes monopolized the shrubbery and the bracken on the forest floor. Stop for more than a few seconds at any given place and they begin to swarm. Sneaky little beggars, you feel the pinch of a proboscis before you're aware a mosquito has scored. Vengeance consists of smacking it away, the penalty for its indiscretion, the ultimate sacrifice. Doesn't make you feel any better, though. But it does explain why regular hikers take a pass on a hot windless day.

 

Back home again, out I went with garden gloves and tools and planted some wax begonias, lobelia, gladiolas in both the garden and the pots not yet tended to. Directly in the sun you quickly get overheated and that's a condition mosquitoes love, zeroing in with intent. But I accomplished what I set out to do, and tomorrow's another day, when I'll tackle the backyard and fill garden pots there.