We did, after all as things turned out yesterday, manage to get ourselves and our two puppies out into the soggy fresh air for a much-needed hike through the ravine. The rain that had haunted us the entire day began at last to fizzle out around five. And by 5:20 the all-clear sounded loud and compulsively in our heads and off we went. Into a world just emerging from its immersion in an undersea experience, dripping and flirting with a glimpse of sun that managed to smirk at us for an odd moment, then relent and disappear back behind the still-present cloud cover.

 

It was cool, we wore light rainjackets, even Jackie and Jillie, without complaint, against the chance that nature might change her mind. There were still warnings of thunderstorms in the offing, and being caught out unprepared in one is not the most pleasant of experiences. We made it back home again without another rainfall, and felt the day hadn't been wasted.

 

When we awoke this morning, the temperature had gone from cool overnight to humid and hot, so we reached the perfect decision. Out again, without delay and we'd escape the heat and humidity on a day promising to give us fulsome sunlight. We were expecting the fencing contractor to drop by in several  hours' time to discuss our contract with them and hand over the deposit required along with our signature on the agreement. But we had plenty of time. We thought.

 

We surmised there must also have been overnight rain, since everywhere we looked big fat droplets of water remained on trees, shrubs and bracken thick on the forest floor. Everything that grows had benefited from all that rain. It's almost as though you can detect the vigorous level of response to the generous outpouring of the clouds. Although it was early when we were out, a day's worth of sun would dry things up nicely and deliver another growth spurt even in the absence of wind.

 

We saw that alfalfa was beginning to flower, and we saw the first of the pilotweed to flower. We also came across the first of the baneberry to ripen its red berries. But what really surprised us was to see off in the distance in an unapproachable area on the opposite side of the creek bank, something yellow that dimly resembled a very large, extraordinarily early-to-bloom black-eyed Susan, amongst the happily blooming daisies. Too far even for the zoom effect of my camera to pick it up with clarity.

 

And nor was I able to snap a photograph of the little bright orange goldfish that was lolling about in the creek down from where we stood on the bank of said creek. Eventually we headed for home. No sight of any of the owls today; controversy over whether there are three or four. The owlets have left the nest. Adieu.

 

 

We indulged in our usual languid stroll around the garden, noting what had changed, admiring the flowering hostas, the still-bright roses and the bountiful blossoms in the garden urns and pots, colourful and beautiful to behold. Patiently, Jackie and Jillie paced along with us though they'd prefer going directly into the house for breakfast. 

We had no sooner sponged the forest off the tender little paws of our puppies, than the doorbell rang. The fence contractor was early for his appointment. While Irving sat with him in the living room, making small talk, discussing the contract, waiting for his portable printer to ooze out the signed contract, I got busy pitting cherries which I planned to use in baking a pie later, after breakfast.