What a Difference Some Rain Makes - 24 Lovely Hours

We had no ravine walk yesterday. We could have, we could have dressed ourselves in rain gear and gone out for our usual walk. But it was also windy and cool, and although Button would have managed well enough, Riley, much smaller, would have been miserable. He isn't at all fond of cool and wet. So, instead, I gave them haircuts. And don't they look swell. This morning dawned bright and clear, after yesterday's full day of rain. But the sun didn't last long, and before we knew it, dark clouds obscured the sun once again.

Our walk today was later than usual, as happens when I do a regular house-cleaning which takes hours out of the day. By the time I'm finished cleaning the house, I'm really raring to get out there and commune with any element other than the need to dust, mop and wash floors. We knew it would be mucky on parts of the trail, and so it was. The water level in the creek hadn't changed substantially, still now at its usual summertime low and lazy level. We hadn't progressed very far when a pileated woodpecker flew low, right across the trail, before us.

A special gift, to see its bright red head so close. In its flight it was almost as though it momentarily hesitated halfway across the trail to give us a heightened opportunity to appreciate its beauty at closer range. Later, we heard his lunatic call peal across the woods. As we ascended one of the long hills we could hear above us children on bicycles and called out to ensure they knew warm bodies were heading toward them. Despite which, two young boys, bicycling home from school, were hard put to brake adequately toward the bottom of the steep hill, and we congratulated them on their swiftly efficient descent.

The wind and rain had whipped all the blossoms off the many apple trees, the hawthornes. In their place the dogwood bushes were now in full bloom, surprising us, as we'd seen nothing to warn beforehand they were prepared to blossom. And everywhere in the woods between the hardwood and softwood stands were honeysuckle bushes flowering in white or in pink blossoms. Darned if we didn't see one single, solitary buttercup - already! And already we can see the hawkweed are getting ready to bloom. There are knots of bright white bunchberry dressing up the forest floor.

And there's one henbane in bloom as well. Isn't it kind of early in the season? Amazing what a full day's serious rain will produce. There are drifts of foamflower everywhere. The overcast skies and the drenched atmosphere accentuate the richness of form and texture, the greens-on-green of the deciduous against the evergreens. And then, climbing up one of the hills we see it: an old fallen trunk and growing out of its sides impossibly huge, flat white fungi, dinner-plate size. We stand and gape.

But later on, there's more, growing on a still-standing leftover of a trunk, a series of equally large, equally improbable, but shades of grey, fungi. These are truly flamboyant wonders of nature. If I forget to take my camera long tomorrow, how can I possibly persuade anyone of the wonders we've seen? Note to self: take trusty camera along on tomorrow's jaunt.

Duly noted.

29May07 - Returned to the ravine, this time with camera. To discover that the nature-loving youngsters of the area had admired the magnificent white fungi to death, demolishing the tender structure with a few well-placed whacks, scattering the pieces over the peace of the forest floor. We discovered the other fungi still intact where they remain on the old snag of a tree trunk.