The heat wave hanging over us this week has finally relented. Much cooler today. But we've exchanged the dry heat for humid moderation. The weather forecast this morning informed us that we'd be enjoying rain today. Showers in the morning and rain in the afternoon, with the odd thunderstorm thrown in for good measure. We could use the rain; correction, all that grows in the out-of-doors is badly in need of irrigation; vegetation is getting parched. We could see cracks appearing on the forest floor.

 

Mind, the heat and the fiercely hot sun has contributed to the cornucopia of wildflowers we've been coming across in our daily ravine jaunts. So we decided we'd get out early again in the hope we might be able to avoid the rain and get our hike in as well for the day. Jackie and Jillie are now accustomed to this new routine; morning hikes in exchange for our usual afternoon tramps and they're fine with it.

It looked chancy overhead as we walked up the street to t he ravine entrance. A day that no sunglasses were needed. There were dark, bruised clouds in a sky busy with wind and cloud. We thought if things got really rough, we'd shorten our circuit. There weren't as many mosquitoes about, but there was a nice cool breeze which accounted for the lack of flying pests.

 

And more things are appearing every day. The lovely little flowering crab that suddenly appeared several years ago is now in bloom. And the first of the wild hawthorn trees that live in the forest are also now beginning their bloom. So too, the old wild apple trees. Everything is blooming apace, a wonder to behold!

 

As we hauled ourselves up the first of the long hills on our circuit no rain had yet materialized and instead of making our way over the main trail, the ridge that shortens our circuit, we forged on, dipped down again to access the second bridge and climbed yet again up a much longer hill to take us to the heights that form part of the forest outside the ravine proper.

 

Because it was heavily overcast, the trout lilies withdrew, closing their bright little faces in disgust at the lack of sun. Their bloom time is coming to an end with the swift leafing out of the forest canopy that will now throw them into deep shade at the completion of the full forest canopy. But further on is where most of the trilliums make their home, and they politely welcomed our respectful presence.

 

As subjects of photographs of sheer unadulterated beauty nestled within the groundwork of the forest with a background of trees they're irresistible. I don't mind risking the wrath of mosquitoes flickering about and trying to settle on my face, my hands, as I crouch beside the trilliums to capture their colourful essence on the forest floor.

 

We've been seeing quite a lot of red baneberry about and more little clumps of wild ginger than we did last year, for some reason. The red banebery is beginning to flower, its white compound flower head preparing to be transformed into shining bright red (poisonous) berries by mid-summer. It's like greeting old friends seeing all of these familiar plants once again.

 

 

Eventually, our circuit complete, we turned in the direction of home. And as we began to exit the trail system I felt a light, wet spot on the back of my right hand. As we retraced our steps in reverse, walking down the street toward our house, it was clear that light rain had begun some time before; the forest canopy had protected us but the rain was now picking up, the road glistening-wet. By the time we reached home it was a steady patter.

And then the rain came roaring down, as I watched from the front door, heavy drops knocking the petals of the large pink, blowzy petals of our large old Magnolia beginning to drift from the branches that held them, to gather on the front walkway. They haven't been in bloom all that long; inside a week actually, and already the rain was interrupting their time of glory.