It's been two days now that we haven't had any rain. Although we didn't mind the rain, we don't mind either that it has stopped. We were amazed at the ongoing heavy downpours and clapping thunderstorms. But there were intervals when the rain did hesitate at times and we dashed out for short circuits wearing rainjackets, with Jackie and Jillie. Twice we were caught in the rain. Once, the rain was light enough that the forest canopy kept us fairly dry. The second time it was another story. But that too we didn't mind.

 

On those days, despite the heavy overcast conditions there were brief moments when the sun appeared, even giving us glimpses of its warming presence during light rain events. Yet even though the rain has been quiescent the last several days, the sun has become elusive. And it's been cool, as well. We've gone from 30C+ last week to 13C this week. Today the temperature struggled up to 20C, but without the sun it felt fairly cool.

 

Cool enough to warrant light jackets, although we only carried rainjackets for the puppies, rather than burden them with wearing them in mere anticipation of rain. On these days with the cooler conditions, overcast and windy, we haven't seen many other people out trekking the forest trails. But yesterday and today, an adorable little pug we see on occasion, hearing Jillie's barking came rushing over off another trail to await cookies.

 

The thimbleberry bushes are now getting into full bloom, and the flowers really are beautiful, pastel pink and some verging toward hot pink. Already where the blossoms have faded, we can see the fruit beginning to form. As with the hazelnut shrubs; their post-bloom nuts are in the formation stage, and judging by observation of previous years, long before they're fully formed the forest squirrels will have enjoyed them.

 

The Jack-in-the-Pulpit flowerheads are beginning to fade. We're accustomed to the vegetation having its day, then fading, but when on occasion we come across an animal of some kind that has seen better days, it somehow seems more meaningful, and an aura of sadness settles over us. Today it was a bumblebee, slowly making its way across the forest floor; its days of flight obviously over. We watched its pitiful progress briefly, and moved on once it managed to pass over into the vegetation beside the trail.

 

When we got back home, I decided to stay out awhile, after cutting up their after-forest salads for Jackie and Jillie. Anticipating that treat they run amok through the house, chasing one another and vocalizing in a rhapsody of expectation. They make quick work of the snap peas, cucumber, bell pepper and grape tomatoes. Once each of them has finished, leaving tiny bits in their bowls, they switch, each going to the other's bowl to lap up whatever is left there.

That's when I went out to the backyard with a compost bag, to snip off the spent wands of the irises; it's the turn of the day lilies and Stella d'oro now. And though most of the peonies are fading, others are just maturing their blooms, as are the roses. I cut back some dead branches of the Purple Smoke tree, that has been so slow in leafing out this year, but couldn't reach some of the taller ones, so I left them for Irving to do.

 

At that point in the late afternoon the sun decided to come out, after all. The garden pots could use some drying-out. The flowering annuals are beginning to look slightly stressed from all the rain. Likely their roots need some relief. I had tidied up in the garden at the front of the house on Saturday, not that it won't be long before the same exercise will be in repeat in a few days' time. It was mostly the walkways at the front that needed cleaning up after the storms had blasted foliage off the trees standing above the gardens. But doing that does give one a sense of accomplishment when the gardens look a trifle more neat and looked after, before everything runs amok again.