It's an awful thought, but it's also a reality. This summer, strange as it has been in its awkward weather patterns, is slowly, inevitably (stealthily) making its way toward Autumn. Yes, perish the thought. There are all the symptoms of a waning summer, however, reminding us of time's passage. The garden is getting a tired look about it, some of the annuals are looking pretty stressed and leggy. In the forest, sumac foliage is beginning to turn those bright fall colours of orange and red. 

And it would be difficult not to notice that days are now shorter, and significantly so, by at least an hour and more. It all seems to creep up, and suddenly you notice. Evenings are cooler as well. So with that the dinner menu undergoes its own slow alteration. Yesterday, I decided that instead of a salad of any kind a cheese quiche might be more appropriate, and so that's what we had. And we enjoyed it.

We've noticed lately that in the forest all the signs are there that squirrels are preparing to make the most of fallen acorns and pine and spruce cones. The acorns littering the trail have mostly been opened. Cones on the other hand, have been hauled onto downed tree trunks and other assorted logs on the forest floor where they're meticulously taken apart and the seeds extracted. Presumably many of these are also stored in some nooks and crannies known only to the possessor.

When we left the house this morning, a rabbit scooted out of the garden, across the street and into the backyard across from us where it would return to the forest. Just as well neither Jackie nor Jillie noticed or they'd have tried to scoot after it. We see rabbits more frequently around the house than we ever do in the ravine. It's the same with raccoons and skunks.

There are fewer ripening berries now from day to day; some days there's lots, some days not, but plenty yet left to ripen. Dragonflies, hoverflies and bees are everywhere in the pollinating meadow, buzzing here and there. Goldenrod is beginning to assume that spent look, Queen Anne's lace as well, though not yet the voluminous groups of purple loosestrife. Himalayan orchids too are slowing down their blooms, though they still dominate some of the ravine hillsides with their bright pink petals.

On a slight side trail we discovered a patch of blooming coreopsis tickseed flowers. All these little revelations make our daily trips to the forest so intriguing for us. The most beautiful of the fall asters are beginning to open their large flowerheads, their distinctive blue-mauve petals superbly balanced. 

After our forest walk, we left the puppies at home briefly and went over to a nearby garden centre. There, we looked about at some of the new cultivars of coneflower and hibiscus, and selected a few to plant in the garden. As we were waiting at the cash, a young woman approached and casually lifted one of our choices from the shopping cart, saying that it was hers; she had chosen it and left it on the floor. I corrected her; I had taken it from among many arrayed on a long elevated aisle shelving.

She put it back, arguing it was her choice and I'd taken it, in essence depriving her of something. We paid for our purchases and while placing them in the back of the truck she approached us again and said she hoped we'd enjoy our plants. We assured her we would, and she then began berating us for being mean-spirited and nasty people. Irving and I were astounded at her persistent harassment. I commented as she walked away that she was a pathetic creature.