For days we've been seeing online warnings for our area of an approaching heat wave. Even without temperatures in the 30C-range, this region's high humidity tends to make days feel even hotter than they are. The really hot weather failed to materialize, however, until today. So when we heard on the news that we could expect a humid 29C, with afternoon thunderstorms, Jackie and Jillie persuaded us that it would be a good idea to get out before breakfast, before the thunderstorms, before the extreme heat hit, for our daily ramble through the woods.

It had, actually, already rained, but the sun peeked around the corner of some clouds and we felt confident enough that further rain would hold off for the next hour or so, to get ourselves into the ravine, guided by our intrepid puppies. Breakfast could wait. And on our return we would refresh ourselves with a nice, long shower.

Jackie and Jillie must have mysteriously telegraphed our intention abroad, because we weren't venturing through forest trails with no other trekkers around. The usual suspects showed up, their intentions mirroring ours. And so, Irving's preparations before leaving the house to ensure that he had enough doggy treats to satisfy the demands of his fans, turned out to be well planned.

As for me, I knew I should have charged my Canon Elph's battery but hadn't bothered. So, as it turned out the exhausted battery was good for three photos before it pooped out entirely. Somehow, making our way through the woodlands without the prospect of taking photographs of landscapes that grip my fancy left much to be desired in total satisfaction. My almost automatic reach for the camera as we progress through the trails was foiled.

But luck was with us, no rain came down and we even were graced with occasional sunbeams before that golden orb retreated once again behind assertive grey skies. For a change I had worn half-length (we used to call them pedal-pushers) pants of a light tan colour. They were soon decorated with paw prints as happy-go-lucky familiar dogs, large and small, were delighted to greet us; cookie free-for-alls has that effect on spontaneous-minded creatures. 

After breakfast, the rumbling of thunderclouds alerted us to two thunderstorms passing, drowning the atmosphere in reams of rain. And each time that happened there was a brief and brilliant appearance of the sun. If the gardens don't appreciate these optimal-growth and flowering conditions, then nothing ever will. Walking through the gardens in dry breaks from the rain, it was obvious that everything was thriving.

Most spectacular of all at  his particular blooming time are the peonies and the roses whose blooms so closely resemble one another with their layers of petals and exquisite bright shades of pink and red. Strangely, our two tree peonies this year haven't produced blooms, though I'm always careful in how I cut them back for winter, ensuring that incipient buds are not touched. They're quite unlike the shrub peonies growing right up from the ground year after year.

As well, several of our clematis vines, though the foliage has grown vigorously, have failed to put out buds. I regret one in particular won't be producing any of its gorgeous double-blue-layered flowers and hope it will recover for next spring's production.

In deference to the heat of summer days we've been eating a bit lighter lately. Light meals are perfectly expressed in summer salads. And last night we had a fresh vegetable and bean salad along with tiny Riga (Latvia) 'gold' sprats (smoked sardines) served separately. They make a good combination, each dish complementing the other, we've found. J&J are neutral about it.