The Next Day

Not a hint of moisture in the atmosphere. The humidity has completely dissipated. No clouds in the sky. Did we just imagine that torrential rainfall throughout the day yesterday accompanied by a raucous orchestra of brass, bass and woodwinds? Must have, since little remains to remind us, around the house. In the ravine, however, that's another matter altogether. There is a nice brisk wind and it, along with the sun have been hard at work helping the saturated ground absorb yesterday's rainfall.

The creek is still busy rushing its way to the Ottawa River watershed, but nowhere near as frantically as it did, yesterday. And though the trails themselves remain soggy - much of the stonedust and gravel that had been deposited over the last few years having washed downhill - they are not as mucky as they were. And the vast puddles of rainwater that had sat on the level portions of the trail have been mostly absorbed, so we are able now to skirt around them, which wasn't at all possible yesterday.

The robins, the cardinals, woodpeckers and goldfinches are out in full force, lustily singing and celebrating their place in nature's scheme. We come across a neighbour, walking a larger dog than ours, a terrier-mix. She hasn't been in the ravine for over a week, she tells us, because of the rain. Her dog had decided to plunge into the creek as it often does to deal with the heat. And was surprised at the unaccustomed level of the water whooshing it along.

She had to talk it into making its way along beside the bank and over to an area where it could obtain a purchase on the slope of the bank to finally pull itself out of the water. The little dog was completely drenched, but no worse the wear for his little predicament, nicely solved.

As we reached the last bridge to begin our final ascent out of the ravine and onto the street where we live, we came abreast of a group of about seven boys in their early teens. Their bicycles were left on the trail, and they stood strung out on the bridge.

Watching while one of their number, up to his knees in the murky mess of the creek, was trolling with a stick where a debris-laden mass had hung up, making an impromptu dam across the creek which the high-level creek yesterday cascaded over in a waterfall that had mimicked the thunder of the heavens.

Later, in the gardens, I commiserated with the almost-drowned annuals, but observed that they were, for the most part, holding their own. Drenched they had been, right royally, but now they were drying off and putting up a brave front. The huge trumpet lilies have finally begun to bloom, and their heavenly scent cast a bloom of fragrance over the entire area.