Well, it's May day, the first of May. It's also May Day as in rescue us, please, from this unstoppable flood from the heavens above. Everything in the out-of-doors is virtually 'swimming' in an excess of rainwater. There was no window allowing us to get out early in the day to bypass the balance of unrelenting, heavy rain. The house feels cool for lack of sunlight streaming through the windows. The furnace has mistaken these cold, wet spring days for winter.

Well, on busy days -- and Mondays are particularly busy days in this household, you can almost live with the thought that there'll be no moseying about through the forest trails with the puppies today. Jillie is a trifle under the weather, and Jackie as well, but he recovered far more quickly from an upset stomach than his sister. Neither wanted breakfast. So you argue with yourself, if they don't feel well, perhaps it's better to remain indoors?

But finally by 5:00 p.m. the rain petered to a halt and magnificently, the sun parted the clouds briefly. We could see some blue in the West and decided to make a break for the forest. So, rainjackets for all and off we went.

And it was wet, wet, wet, the forest absolutely dripping and drooling rain. Underfoot the forest floor was utterly sodden. And ominously, we could see large cracks on the main trail just before the collapsed old pine, signalling ongoing distress. Voluminous rain saturates Leda clay making it unstable; the clay actually dissolves into a kind of slippery liquid-like condition. This may be a sign of an imminent collapse of the bank above the creek.

The creek itself is swollen and turbulent, rushing on under bridges, foaming and fulminating, loudly proclaiming its presence. The rain has enhanced the aroma of the great pine's distress, the smell of it a kind of token of fatalism. We found the footing more than adequate climbing and descending hills; gravel deposited over the years has bitten deeply into the clay and allows for good traction, but we could see where others had slipped downhill, leaving the impression of their slide on the trail.

We heard the owl, we heard goldfinches and robins, all of them praising nature for finally shutting off the faucet, however temporarily. We saw only one other person out with his two dogs. One, a Golden Retriever, was adamant about her intention of having a number of repeated soaks and brief swims in the creek. We could see the power of the water, the current pushing even a large dog downstream, influencing her decision to call it a day.