British Columbia has declared a wildfire emergency, people informed they must expect to evacuate immediately they are requested to, when uncontrolled wildfires get too dangerously close to their towns. There are hundreds of wildfires burning across the province, a number of which are uncontrolled, despite the best efforts of wildfire-fighting crews.

In the midwestern U.S. drought conditions have made wildfires more ubiquitous and fiercer to fight for fire crews in 13 states. One, called the Bootleg Fire is the largest, burning over 1,372 square kilometres to date. Could we but share with these critical forest regions the copious rainfalls we've been given by nature this year, it would be of enormous assistance to them, but such is impossible. One geographic area is beset with wildfires, another spared.

From areas of China to those in Europe, it isn't wildfires that force the evacuation of residents, but flood conditions brought on by incessant heavy rains breaking dams and overrunning the banks of rivers, causing death and destruction. Everything in extremes; the usual balance of nature that we so treasure has gone off kilter. 

On the other hand, there are wildfires burning through forested acreage in Northern Ontario, too. Our forest is wet and lush with rampantly-growing vegetation. The night before last we had ample rain fall. When we awoke yesterday morning everything was dripping in the backyard. By the time, later in the day, that we made off into the ravine with Jackie and Jillie champing at the bit as it were, the morning's humidity seemed to have lifted somewhat and the temperature at 25C, seemed reasonable.

We had an enjoyable hour-and-a-half rambling through the ravine trails. In no great hurry, though we did look a trifle apprehensively from time to time at the sky. Then were relieved to note ample blue peeping through the forest canopy, and nor was it particularly dark in the forest interior. In fact, for a good part of our foray through the trails the sun shone warm and bright.

Roughly twenty minutes after our return home from our hike in the ravine, the house suddenly became dark. Looking out through the patio doors we saw a dark cloud looming over the west, steadily moving east, to our location. Faint rumbles in the distance assured us that a thunderstorm was headed our way. In no time at all, rain began; big, fat drops of rain whose tempo steadily increased as it became a deluge of heavy rain backgrounded by deep bass rolls of thunder. Soon, visibility was affected so we were unable to see beyond the immediate view of the backyard and the house itself was in darkness.

On came the lights, and they stayed on until evening when there was no intention to shut them off, with nightfall. One thunderstorm after another rampaged through the sky and with each came yet another heavy downpour. Endless rain. Non-stop sturm und drung. A tone poem by nature.

This morning the out-of-doors remained steeped deep in the remnants of the rain that had fallen. Rain steadily continuing to drip from all vegetation. Flowers battered down. But the sun was out and warming the atmosphere while drying everything that had drowned in the flood of rainwater. And when we got around early this afternoon to returning to the ravine for our forest hike through the trails with Jackie and Jillie, the creek in the ravine was roiling and pouring its excess down the runway and a slight odour of swamp gas wafted from the clay-disturbed bottom of the stream.

Whatever had been battened down by the rain was lifting itself under the drying influence of the sun. New flowers were opening to take the place of those that had been strangled by the rain; Himalayan orchids, Pilotweed, Queen Anne's lace, daisies and Black-eyed Susans and now jewelweed too can be seen on the near banks of the creek beginning to flower.

Berries are ripening. Irving picked scads of raspberries and thimbleberries for Jackie and Jillie. The thimbleberry shrubs are still putting out fresh new flowers, even though those that had flowered long since are now ripening red and sweet into delicious berries. What a world of difference between what we're experiencing and what people in Canada's and the U.S.'s western regions are experiencing...

Day by following day the world we live in -- at least the exterior world, outside our own intimate surroundings -- seems to become more and more unfamiliar. The world order doesn't seem quite as orderly any longer, if it ever truly was. The veneer of civilization and civility, political rectitude and mass obedience to the greater good of the wider social weal seems to be faltering, the cracks becoming wider, people more ferociously socially fractured.

Who might have imagined a scenario in plain sight building to such a momentum? That a sitting president of the most powerful country in the world would deliberately incite his personal followers to disgrace the entire nation, urging them on to demonstrate their displeasure that a slightly larger majority of the country had agreed it was time for the man to step away from authority and be replaced by someone else promising to lead his country in a more rational, equitable direction?

How could it be possible that the kind of social upheaval leading to the wreckage of a country's unity, its economic destruction, the cause of millions of its people seeking refuge abroad from the ravages of internal conflict, fatigue with deprivation, facing starvation and lack of medical care that erupted in Syria and Venezuela, Congo and South Sudan, Mali and Yemen would take place in the great United States of America?

Any sane person sensitive to the needs of any population could only feel compassion for the ordinary individual who wants nothing more than to live in harmony with others. Not the kind of harmony that China imposes on its population/s, but a human rights harmony of peace and security, with opportunities to live decent and secure lives. How strange it is that a population that has just about everything that people could conceivably require to live those decent and secure lives has become so distanced from one another, as to embrace 'conspiracy theories' and submit to racial stereotyping and victimization?

But then, who would ever have been able to imagine a world turned upside down and inside-out through the emergence of an unseen predator that seeks entrance to the human body to enable it to proliferate, replicate endlessly, seeking out an ongoing succession of new bodies to infect, a pestilence whose virulence is now so prevalently opportunistic that it has become close to unstoppable, waxing and waning like the moon, impervious to intervention.

Impacting us personally by its haunting threat and the fear that those we love may be victimized. Changing our lives in subtle ways. Today I had an 'appointment' with my cardiologist, a telephone 'consultation'. Truth to tell, much preferred than that we would leave the house, drive to a hospital, have an ecogram, meet with the doctor and generally feel out of syncronization with normalcy in any event. This was much less invasive; nothing to report, all's well.

The day proceeding as it should, all the little things one does to pass a day, habitual and necessary. Including our afternoon ramble through the woodland trails with our two little companions Jackie and Jillie. Giving them the opportunity to socialize with other dogs, large and small, increasingly being brought to the ravine which we had for so many years virtually to ourselves. 

 Not that our two little poodles are very socially inclined.  Even when Jackie watches over my shoulder perched on an arm of the family room sofa as I download photographs from my digital camera to my desktop computer where photos of him and his sister in the woods flash on the screen, he growls and snarls at the sight of other 'dogs' even if they're very familiar dogs, himself and Jillie.

It always feels good to be out there, striding along. Taking a little longer to ascend the  hills, briefly resting once we crest them before carrying on. Descending one hill, ascending another. Delving into the ravine, hearing the creek washing itself downstream. Our cleated boots crunching into the snow-and-ice-packed forest trails.

Once back home again, a rip-through-the-house run by the two little black imps that usually concludes with a vigorous tussle. And then they hunt me down in the kitchen conveying their need for a pick-up-snack. We forgot to get cauliflower when we went shopping on Tuesday, so now they're getting two salads daily, the snack and another after their dinner. Comprised of little pieces of cucumber, bell pepper, snap peas and grape tomatoes. They love their vegetables.

The suspense is not yet over. Who might have imagined that the results of the 2020 U.S. presidential election would be dragging on for so long? It's a situation that perhaps might not have occurred had the entire country be governed by a single election-processing body overseeing conformity in the process instead of having each state and territory mount their participation in the general election with their very own state-specific rules and regulations. The end result is controversy galore. Not that controversy given this very partisan election would be entirely avoided, but perhaps a little more clarity in procedural norms.

We're curious, looking in from the outside, just as most other people are, wondering when it will end, feeling sympathetic to those for whom this wait is excruciating. It appears a given at this late date that a new president will occupy the White House come January. But on the way to that occasion there is little doubt that much will occur to further infuriate supporters of each of the parties that exemplify the polarizing issues and events that wrack the United States at the present.

We slept in this morning; correction, I did. When I do occasionally, my husband listens to National Public radio on one of his transistor radios that is able to capture the signal. So that when I awake finally, he informs me of what has been happening. I can recall that happening four years ago when I was speechless with incredulity as he informed me that yes, Donald Trump won the election against Hilary Clinton. Not that we have personally any stake in who directs the affairs of our direct continental neighbour to the south but we do watch closely such events and it was our opinion that the two candidates were both flawed, each of them less suitable than should be expected for a world leader, but Mr.Trump seemed by far the more improbable of the two. 

For four years the world watched agape as open nepotism, corruption in taking advantage of position to further business interests, unsavoury past revelations of an uncouth personality, and combustible denunciations of global relationships roiled the United States as the population became increasingly divided over domestic issues. There were previous administrations whose inappropriate and ill-thought-out decision-making impacted the world community, and how the president of the day and the country he led were viewed abroad. One thinks of Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton and even Barack Obama; one of whom led a weak administration, the other a questionable moral character, and one utterly failing to live up to possibly improbable standards of astute decision-making.

Gives us much to muse over, and to discuss in our conversations, whether in bed, building up the momentum to decide to finally meet the morning head on, or in casual conversation with others, all of whom appear to share a universal opinion on who should go on to lead the United States into the near future of COVID, internal social unrest, and handling the world's trouble spots which has always been America's strength. 

After breakfast my husband headed downstairs to his workshop to continue yet another project he's involved with that will take him through the winter months to complete. Over the years he has assembled a range of tools, both hand-tools and electric, and he depends on them for many uses. He enjoys working with wood, fashioning items, designing things, carrying those designs through to completion.

For my part, it's the kitchen that draws me primarily and Friday is one of those days of the week when I plan to bake something a little different to close out our Friday night dinner. I usually also prepare a bread dough to be refrigerated, so the dough can be used in a variety of ways from pizza to dinner rolls throughout the week. Today, for a change I baked a lattice-topped berry pie, a filling of blueberries, strawberries, blackberries and raspberries, frozen in a pouch, to which I add sugar, cornstarch and cranberry juice to simmer into a thick filling. I usually use a pottery pie dish that our younger son made for me decades ago.

In the mid-afternoon we accompanied Jackie and Jillie for a leisurely hike through the ravine on another superb fall day. We've left the numbing cold behind temporarily, stuck in a high-pressure zone of dry warmth that is set to linger, we've been promised, for much of the rest of the week and on into the first few days of next week. Because it was so warm at 17C, no sweaters for the puppies, and off we went, strolling up the street and veering off into the ravine.

Where poplars predominate the forest floor is now covered with dried foliage rapidly turning dark dirty-grey, nothing like the glorious golds and yellows when they first came down. And where there are many maples in other areas of the forest, colour still remains, with patches of dusty-red stubbornly retaining some brightness amongst the pale yellow of the birch leaves.

The sun struggled to burst its way out of the low cloud ceiling, and from time to time managed to find a niche for itself before disappearing again. It's notable that all the thriving green vegetation that normally crowds the forest floor is now entirely absent, absorbed back into the soil to await another spring's wake-up call. The oldest of the wild apple trees, now completely denuded of its foliage, thrusts its bare limbs in every direction as though to call them back home again.

On the rotting old crotch of another elderly tree, a tiny green apple nestles that may or may not be enjoyed at some time by wildlife during the scarce food-resourcing months ahead. While Jackie and Jillie were absorbed in the panoply of fascinating odours delivering their canine messages, my husband and I continued our conversations focusing on the tension to our south, the uncertainty of future protests turning into riots, and the final culmination of the heatedly-contested race for a new occupant of the American seat of power.