We started out the work of the day by turning over our bed mattress, the semi-annual preparation for the seasonal change that one person alone cannot accomplish with a queen-size mattress, wide, thick and cumbersome to handle.  And from there we initiated further seasonal chores.

First, though, because it was a lovely, albeit cool and breezy day, we made haste to undertake our quotidian ravine walk, which took up an hour and a half of the early afternoon.  Most of the forest trees in the ravine have now shed their leaves, and the coverlet of foliage on the forest floor is ankle-deep in some places, so that we slosh crisply through them, confetti-like, and brilliantly coloured, a feast for the eyes.

When we returned, my husband set about changing the oil in his silver Honda coupe, yet another regular chore that he sets for himself and one I would far prefer he have performed at a commercial garage with the hoist equipment required, rather than lower himself under the front of the car which he has driven on to small metal hoists.

I worked outside as well, using my neat little contraption to dig holes in the garden where I drop the hopes for next spring's colour display.  I planted dozens of bright tulips, delicate alliums, and colourful hyacinths, hoping that the local squirrels would give them a pass.  I had deposited a mixture of bloodmeal and bonemeal, in the faint hope the bloodmeal would dissuade the little rascals, but they'd already been at some of the bulbs I had planted a week previously.  This time I sprinkled hot pepper flakes liberally over those areas where I planted the bulbs.  In previous years I have placed wire net over the ground, but there are too many areas to be treated this way.

When my husband finished with the car, he turned his attention to the snow thrower, taking it out of the larger of our two backyard garden sheds where it is stored over the clement months, to fire it up, change the oil, and do whatever else is required to put it to a ready state for use, which may be sooner than we think.

He also covered the air conditioner and wrapped a tarp over it, doing the same with our gas barbecue which saw its last seasonal use on Monday.  Little Riley, who adores the sun, even when the ambient temperature is too cool for him, was happy to hang around outside with us, wearing a little wool coat for warmth, and vetting whoever came up or down the street while we were out there.

It was an almost-full-outdoors day, one comprised of work, but satisfyingly and of necessity so.