The Sodden Ravine
This weather we're experiencing is quite something else. The rain just does not stop. For the past several months we've experienced rain on a daily basis, but for the new anomaly of the occasional day when it fails to rain. Otherwise, we've a litany of showers, rainfalls, thunderstorms, pop-up showers, and drenching rain. There is no stop to it. Despite which, our weather forecasters and scientists assure us that total rainfall is not out of the ordinary.
The very fact that the rain is just about continual has them shaking their heads, and scratching their scalps at the mystery of it all. Still, they tell us, the total accumulations are not out of whack with what's generally anticipated at this time of year. Could've fooled me. Still, we've not much to complain about; Ontario doesn't resemble the U.S. Mid-West. We're not being flooded out, merely incessantly rained upon.
The gardens don't seem to mind. Fact is, despite the almost-daily rain occurrences, we're still getting a fair share of sunshine, here and there. And for us gardeners the steady rain alternating with sun translates as no need to water our gardens; nature is obligingly doing that for us. And are we really to believe the forecasters when they steadfastly continue to assure us that the summer of 2008 is still destined to be hotter and dryer than usual?
They're on a bit of a roll, having forecasted the winter of 2007-08 to be one of heavy snow, yet relatively mild temperatures, both of which conditions most certainly came to fruition. Come to think of it, we experienced almost daily snow events, as well, which accounted for our near-record-breaking snow pack this past winter.
We cannot recall ever seeing the ravine so incredibly sodden, as this year. The trails have reverted to early-spring muck conditions. Exacerbated by bicycles churning up the clay and the mud. We're getting used to it, actually. It isn't all that bad. We've become rather expert in side-stepping puddles with some alacrity. And our little dogs ordinarily get dunked in a sink of warm-water clean-up on our return from the ravine, anyway.
Already the red baneberry is sporting those dangling red berries; seems awfully early in the season. Runaway growth in the staghorn sumachs has them hoisting aloft their candles. Damsel flies flit about in the vicinity of the creek, itself more muddy than clear these days. The thimbleberry bushes are beginning to bloom bright pink blossoms, and the hazelnuts are maturing in abundance.
Hawkweed, both yellow and orange, along with pretty pink henbane enliven the colour scheme, heavy with the white of those ubiquitous daisies, and the bedding grasses with their heady fragrance. Speaking of which, we crushed some wild ginger leaves on yesterday's jaunt and almost swooned from the sweet-tangy aroma. And then there's potentilla, blooming perky yellow, alongside the blue of chicory, the sunny buttercups, interwoven with the bright purple-blue of cowvetch.
A tangled garden, the playground of local squirrels and chipmunks, and the local community of rabbits crossing our path from time to time.
The very fact that the rain is just about continual has them shaking their heads, and scratching their scalps at the mystery of it all. Still, they tell us, the total accumulations are not out of whack with what's generally anticipated at this time of year. Could've fooled me. Still, we've not much to complain about; Ontario doesn't resemble the U.S. Mid-West. We're not being flooded out, merely incessantly rained upon.
The gardens don't seem to mind. Fact is, despite the almost-daily rain occurrences, we're still getting a fair share of sunshine, here and there. And for us gardeners the steady rain alternating with sun translates as no need to water our gardens; nature is obligingly doing that for us. And are we really to believe the forecasters when they steadfastly continue to assure us that the summer of 2008 is still destined to be hotter and dryer than usual?
They're on a bit of a roll, having forecasted the winter of 2007-08 to be one of heavy snow, yet relatively mild temperatures, both of which conditions most certainly came to fruition. Come to think of it, we experienced almost daily snow events, as well, which accounted for our near-record-breaking snow pack this past winter.
We cannot recall ever seeing the ravine so incredibly sodden, as this year. The trails have reverted to early-spring muck conditions. Exacerbated by bicycles churning up the clay and the mud. We're getting used to it, actually. It isn't all that bad. We've become rather expert in side-stepping puddles with some alacrity. And our little dogs ordinarily get dunked in a sink of warm-water clean-up on our return from the ravine, anyway.
Already the red baneberry is sporting those dangling red berries; seems awfully early in the season. Runaway growth in the staghorn sumachs has them hoisting aloft their candles. Damsel flies flit about in the vicinity of the creek, itself more muddy than clear these days. The thimbleberry bushes are beginning to bloom bright pink blossoms, and the hazelnuts are maturing in abundance.
Hawkweed, both yellow and orange, along with pretty pink henbane enliven the colour scheme, heavy with the white of those ubiquitous daisies, and the bedding grasses with their heady fragrance. Speaking of which, we crushed some wild ginger leaves on yesterday's jaunt and almost swooned from the sweet-tangy aroma. And then there's potentilla, blooming perky yellow, alongside the blue of chicory, the sunny buttercups, interwoven with the bright purple-blue of cowvetch.
A tangled garden, the playground of local squirrels and chipmunks, and the local community of rabbits crossing our path from time to time.
Labels: Environment, Nature, Perambulations
posted by Pieface @ 5:36 PM
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