After Irving cut the grass in the backyard yesterday evening just before dinner, the aroma of fresh-cut grass lured us all outside to enjoy the cooler evening air, inviting us to sit out on the deck for awhile. And that included Jackie and Jillie, unaccustomed as they are to sitting about outside, they decided to remain with us though insisting they be noticed and their presence fully appreciated. There are times when they're not the centre of attention; yesterday was one of those. Instead we sat quietly and just absorbed the cooling air, the scents of a summer garden and the occasional bird song wafting down to us.

 

 

Today, once the laundry was done, we prepared to launch ourselves as usual into the ravine. We had seen the sky turn dark many times and angry, black clouds shifting along, an advance warning of the weather alert that has gone out for our area. We're to be inundated yet again by heavy rain and thunderstorms, and the chance of flooding is fairly high in areas prone to floods. Rain is to begin tonight and continue throughout the night and through all of tomorrow, until nightfall.

 

 

We prepared to leave the house just as the final load of laundry was completed and the washer shut off. The drier was nowhere near finished with its load and it was shut off deliberately. We never leave the house with any of those appliances in operation. Years ago an area house burned down because no one was at home when the owners' drier malfunctioned. Years ago, I experienced an unpleasant incident myself while we were living in Tokyo, when the drier in the laundry room adjacent the kitchen caught fire. I was there, to shut the machine off and the fire died down, but not until it burned itself out, charring the load it carried.

 

 

Walking up the street to the ravine entrance treated us to humid heat, even with the sun hidden. But the moment we entered the ravine and descended into the forest that changed completely; a light wind and the dense shade cast by the forest canopy, reiterated by the cloud cover brought us into a cool atmosphere. And because it was so pleasant, we decided we'd take a longer hike than we've been committing to, lately.

 

 

But first the now-obligatory stop to gather a few ripe berries for a suddenly-alert Jackie and Jillie. The wild raspberries are sweet and juicy, but very small. The newly-ripening thimbleberries on the other hand, are much larger and equally sweet and juicy. Our pups don't mind which they get, as long as they're on offer.

 

There's always so much to see in the bracken of the forest floor. False Solomon's Seal with its berries, not yet red, their tiny orbs shining a brownish-green. We're beginning to glimpse the occasional mushroom, thanks to the moisture content of the soil and decaying tree roots. And shelf fungi as well are coming into play; nature's servants in the eternal work of renewal. 

 

When we reach the area colonized by wild apple trees we can see that the fruit is attaining size, but still a long way to go. And although most of the Elderberry trees' panicle blossoms have faded toward the production of berries, a few are just now coming into bloom and their wonderful fragrance perfumes the air.

 

 

We're met on one of the trails by two old ravine friends who have abandoned their humans over on another trail to rush over and say hello to us, exciting Jackie and Jillie no end. Not only are our pups happy to see their friends, they're happier yet that they've arrived since it means that Irving will hand out cookies all around. He pats their heads after dispensing the cookies, tells them that's it for today, and they dispatch themselves back to their humans.

 

 

Once home again, we sit awhile in the garden. It's my favourite opportunity to look about and assess the condition that the garden pots and garden plots are in; we haven't had to do much watering this year, given the enormous bouts of rainfall we've been exposed to. One of our favourite clematis vines is late blooming this year, but it was nice to see that though it's a month late, some blooms will still be forthcoming.

 

 

Over the years we've accumulated an enormous number of hosta plants, so they're sprinkled everywhere; the side 'shade' garden, in the rockgarden on the opposite side of the house, in the backyard, and in various garden beds and borders at the front of the house. Their graceful foliage, in various sizes and shapes and colours give shape and architecture to the garden just as the shrubs and trees do.