...and the rain continued to pound down. Here on the forest floor, pools of water were rapidly growing into small ponds. Those animals that can wade or swim were enjoying their brief time higher up the food chain than the scavangers hid away from these conditions. The wet undergrowth and mud seemed to quieten all sound, as if someone had switched the woodland mute button, yet somehow it suddenly got quieter still. Life paused, then it dawned slowly on everything, the rain, it had stopped. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, nothing broke the spell. Then there it was, the wonderous sounds of the first birdsong, then another and another, and suddenly the trees were awash with a beautiful melody of angelic singing. And then, in answer to this call, through the tapestry of naked winter branches, came the first glints of fabulous sunlight, and the only thing left for me to do was cry.