Life in the Sub-Tropical Rainforest

Here in Bergen we have been so lucky-or blessed-whichever way you want to see it. The floods of southern Alberta did not come, although plenty of rain definitely did. The TV weather rated Sundre’s accumulation during the flood period as somewhere over 100mms. Since then, we’ve had hot humid weather, warm humid weather, and wet weather, a combination guaranteed to keep my hair permanently bedraggled. But the plants don’t mind the humidity. The grass practically jumps back to replace each mouthful chomped down by the cows. Less conveniently, my lawn grass does the same for each swipe of the mower across it. I’ve been taking the quad out before 7 each morning to check the cows pasturing a half mile away. What a beautiful world at that time on a summer morning. It could be the dawn of time-except for the lack of dinosaurs-with the mist rising off the perfect, untouched greenness that surrounds me. Some days, if I go a little later, I stop at a swampy place for the dogs to drink and lie in the water to cool off. Today, as I waited for them to finish their ablutions the scent of crushed mint drifted up from the plants along the water’s edge, adding a little extra atmosphere to the freshness of the morning. I wish Apache had involved herself more thoroughly with the scent of mint. She’s been rolling on her rotten old cow bone and, to put it mildly, she STINKS. This fact was brought home (literally) to me yesterday when, during a violent thunderstorm, I let the terrified dogs in the house. “Doggedly” Apache followed me from room to room for comfort. WHEW!

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