Heading out to the ravine for our daily tramps through the forest has become a lot more complicated lately. The spontaneity of collar, harness and leash and off-we-go was strictly summer mode. As summer waned and fall entered, there were subtle changes; light little sweaters for all of us, including Jackie and Jillie when the ambient temperature began to bite a bit. As the days grew progressively cooler, the quality of those sweaters changed to counter the cool nip. Now that it's quite cold, early-winter gear has become necessary. 

 

And although it took an unusual length of time this year for snow to arrive, it finally did, yesterday, a cheering sight, illuminating the seasonal gloom of the forest, covering leaf-bare branches with glittering new snow, that fairy-tale aspect that forests take on in winter. With temperatures of -2C, and snow on the ground, Jackie and Jillie had their little rubber boots added to the snow-proof winter jackets. They didn't mind, they gamboled like little lambs off-trail in the forest interior.

 

Today, it's a lot milder, even though snow fell again, most of the day. The mild temperature (2C), changed the character of the snow from light and fluffy to damp and heavy. Yesterday when we ventured out we hadn't come across too many people, but they, like us, took special care on the hillsides of the ravine, finding it fairly slippery and unwilling to sprawl on the forest floor. It does take away some of the enjoyment of plodding through snow when you're not footsure.

Because it was milder today Jackie and Jillie had no need of their boots, but we pulled cleats securely over the soles of our boots to regain that footsure balance. We no longer needed to walk with such care, but the snow, because it was damp, clumped thickly underfoot so that at times it took a real physical effort to pull our boots clear of the snowpack. 

Even without boots today, Jackie and Jillie were delighted with the snow, leaping happily about everywhere. They discover unending opportunities to sniff strange (or familiar) new odours that intrigue them no end; at times it seems as though they share their thoughts, one possibly asking the other what they made of any particular 'fragrance'.

 

Today we only came across two other people on the trails with their pet companions. One of whom we were familiar with, the other not. Yesterday we'd come across a woman from the wider community who was uncertain where she was, which trail network she should be on, to return her to be able to access her street, so we did a little trail orienteering for her. Her rambunctious little scamp of a dog was having the time of its life, running challenging rings around our two.

Finally, on the last third of our circuit, snow started up again, falling in little clusters, the wind picking them up and sending them in an almost horizontal direction. Last night, Irving had gone out at midnight to shovel the accumulation in the backyard, clearing off the deck and the stairs and clearing away some of the sidewalk trails we have installed in the backyard, so Jackie and Jillie would have less to contend with in the morning.

 

As a result of the snow continuing all night, however, since I was downstairs before Irving, putting the finishing touches on breakfast, I took a break before he came downstairs and repeated his effort of the night before. And then invited Jackie and Jillie to join me out in the backyard, once they had finished their breakfast.

When they were months-old puppies they used to go a little berserk with joy in the winter, chasing one another endlessly around the backyard, standing on their hind legs and boxing, teasing one another from one end of the backyard to the other. On occasion they do that also in the house, in an excess of happiness or when they're anticipating an imminent mealtime. They've more latterly added chasing the rabbits that come about in the backyard, and intently sniffing the ground where presumably they've last been. We suspect they have little nests under the garden sheds.

 

We're now past the mid-month mark in November and the usually morose, dark month continues to surprise us. Usually, conditions seem so stark by now with the absence of growing things in the garden, and colours reduced to their basics of dark and light, that we begin to anxiously await the arrival of snow to lend a bit of winter magic to the landscape. Seems it is not to be, not yet, in any event, as milder temperatures than normal continue and what might descend as snow comes down as rain, plentiful and cold. In the same token, the usually sunless November we know has been transformed to one currently that allows for sunny days which, combined with temperatures under freezing, make for comfortable forays into the forest on our daily perambulations there.

 

Of course when it rains relentlessly without stop for several days the opportunity to get out into nature comes to a full thudding stop. But for those whose companion dogs are large beasts who must get out regardless the weather, and our two little twimps are not in that category. They're content to remain in the house when it  rains and make that choice quite clear, in their reluctance to emerge any time rain pelts down hard, draining their enthusiasm for the out-of-doors.

 

By Friday, the weather began to clear, and at midafternoon out came the sun. For a while, in any event, until clouds moved back in. Until the clearing, it had been heavily raining, and we thought we'd miss another day of tramping through the forest trails. Earlier, I had baked an apple pie for a change for my usual Friday baking. One of Irving's favourite desserts. By the time I was finished in the kitchen, breading chicken cutlets for dinner later in the day and making a whole-wheat-cheese bread dough for croissants on Sunday, it was time to get out for our walk.

Since we weren't sure it wouldn't begin raining again while we were out, with the return of clouds obscuring the sun, it was rainproof jackets for everyone, Jackie and Jillie included. By the following day, chance of rain had diminished to a greater degree, and we were able to get out for a much longer, extended foray along the forest trails, wearing cold-weather, but not rain gear and we were much more comfortable. We pursued trails we haven't been on in a month or so, and the puppies were intrigued, revisiting old familiar places to check out the messages left by other pups; the canine version of neighbourly news.

 

Since it's Saturday and the temperature was in the 8C range, albeit windy with a prevailing dusky atmosphere, other hikers appeared here and there throughout the trail system, and with them their puppy pals, some of whom were very familiar with Irving's endless cache of cookies.

We saw chickadees flocking to a bird feeder hung alongside the trail on a protruding tree limb, interspersed with nuthatches taking their turns and even a female hairy woodpecker. None of those little aerial acrobats remain still for more than a second or two. They land, grab a seed and immediately depart for nearby trees. In the same token they're not shy of the presence of anyone passing by; repeating their performance as though oblivious of any interference in their comfort level.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie whose penchant is generally to remain on the trails, found it irresistible today to forge their way through the forest floor steeped in the most recent layer of leaf mass, in search of aromatic essences emanating from the presence of droppings, fascinated by the messages they find there, too. Which obliges us to keep tabs on where they are and what they're doing to ensure they're not indulging in that curse of rancid coprophagia. 

 

 

The landscape looks forbiddingly abandoned of colour; few remnants of foliage left. The forest floor itself is now barren of vegetation; it has all receded, awaiting the return of growing conditions in the spring. It's a mixed forest of conifers, evergreens and deciduous trees. The largest of which tend to be maple, willow, pine and spruce. The presence of the latter ensures some green remains, but the defoliation of the former presents a landscape nude of the greater presence of shades of green.

 

The result is a skeletal formation of dark trunks in the absence of prevailing green, where black-and-grey dominate the visual appearance of the landscape. Verdancy absent, the eye grieves the changed aesthetic. Which is reason enough to applaud the presence of snow, slow in arriving this year. And judging by the weather we've been experiencing up to now this fall, there's the distinct possibility that the winter of 2024/25 will not be one of snow abundance. Milder temperatures can bring more freezing rain and icy conditions may prevail.

 

Regardless, when that time comes we'll be prepared, with ice cleats strapped on over our boots. And that alone will be no different than any other winter when, once the snow flies and conditions for freeze-and-thaw eventuate, it becomes dangerous in a forested ravine with all its ascents and descents not to be prepared for challenging conditions underfoot.

 

We lingered in bed this morning, in no hurry to rise. We tend to do that when  we wake to a heavily overcast morning, and this morning was certainly that. Jackie and Jillie were fine with it, they just cuddled closer to us, while we discussed the morning news between us. Glancing at our bedside clocks that had just a short while earlier informed us it was eight o'clock, we noted dark blanks instead of brightly-illuminated numerals telling time, as we moved our lazy bones out of bed. Unexpectedly, no electricity. We soon discovered that even the telephone land lines were out, when they're usually not during brief electricity lapses.

With no way of knowing how long we'd be without electricity (which didn't stop us from automatically flicking on light switches as we moved about the dark house), Irving put the fireplace on, to dispel a bit of the damp darkness. Then he went downstairs to the basement and returned with an oil lamp, and he retrieved old antique candelabra and candles (we can't even remember the last time we bought candles) and placed them in strategic spots in the kitchen.

 

He'd also brought up an old blue-metal camping coffeepot and a few cooking pots. Then he went out to the deck to turn on our direct-gas-fired barbecue. I had fed the pups and taken them out to the backyard briefly, and as we returned to the house rain began falling. That rain would eventually turn to hail, and then rain again. Good thing we have a metal canopy over the deck to cover the barbecue. We boiled water for tea and coffee and cooked up steel-cut oats for bowls of oatmeal for us.

Irving used a mortar-and-pestle on the coffee beans, since the electric grinder wasn't on duty. We had just enough light on this darkly overcast, windy morning to read the newspapers as we lingered over breakfast. Finally, at noon, on came the lights we  had flicked so expectantly when they weren't available.

 

With electricity returned I set about my usual Friday kitchen activities, among them making a bread dough to refrigerate for use on Sunday, and baking lemon-curd squares. Then it was time to take ourselves off for a romp through the forest trails. In the interim the sun had come out for a brief period before again departing. Since rain was forecasted for the afternoon and it was cold and blustery (we could hear the wind blasting down the chimney through the fireplace) we needed to bundle up against the cold and the potential for a rain squall while we were out, and that included rainjackets for Jackie and Jillie.

 

The amount of detritus, branches and bits and pieces of pine, and defunct tree parts that had come down last night and this morning in fierce wind blasts surprised us; the trail was littered heavily in some areas. And we noticed that the mad forest-trail raker had been out again at some point, feverishly plying her rakehead to the forest trails, piling up desiccated foliage closer to the interior and we just shook our heads in wonderment at the peculiarity of peoples' ideas of appropriateness. A forest, after all, is a forest.

 

We had come across the woman yesterday afternoon as she  was assiduously raking the initial long hill we descend from street level into the forest. A brief conversation ensued to no one's satisfaction. It is an odd anomaly to see anyone invested with the belief that forests should be tidy, neat places and with that conviction go about the tasks to achieve something not even remotely resembling a neat and tidy forest since nature is jealous of her sovereignty, and most sane people respect her for that.

Jackie and Jillie met some of their canine friends, long familiar with Jillie's loud welcoming barks that penetrate through the forest to other networked trails. They know that wherever Jillie is there will be cookies. And just as Irving hands out cookies to an appreciative doggie audience that responds to Jillie's invitation, Jillie knows who, among her friends' people-companions also carry cookies and she rushes over to them knowing they they are wont to dole those treats out to her.

 

Nature has gone off on a teasing tangent. Most of last week was so cold we wore hats and gloves along with our pre-winter-warm jackets. And Jackie and Jillie wore theirs, as well. Days when the wind whipped through the forest made it seem even colder than the 3C that it was. Three days ago torrential rain and wind consumed the day. Yesterday? Heavily overcast, morning rain as well as wind, but the temperature nudged up to 17C, a big difference from 3C. So no hat, no gloves, no warm, woolly jackets. Today built on yesterday's balmy atmosphere. 

 

Still overcast, yes, but occasional burst of sun forcing its way through the cloud cover, and warming the interior of the house. And the temperature rose to 20C, surely a record for November 6th! It was a tempestuous day in other ways, since the results of the American election were in and firmly established that Donald Trump has returned to the White House. He's so unpredictable it makes us wonder what kind of unexpected and possibly impetuous decisions he'll make in his first week back in office. But we'll have to wait for his January inauguration to find out anything like that.

 

Irving is still in the throes of cleaning  up his workshop of years of  accumulated detritus. He's always been like that; creatively constructive, but loathe to clean up afterward, and waste-wood and coloured glass had a tendency to pile up. He also likes to save things; anything he construes as having potential for hitherto-unimagined use is set aside for another day. And there are times when he'll find those bits and pieces useful; waste not, want not.

 

 

Yesterday I made an eggplant-cheese-tomato casserole. I'd place that in a once-again, now-and-again category, it's so good; wholesome and fragrantly delicious. Any dish that Irving will eat with gusto is a winner for me. This time, I took the  trouble to peel the eggplant before braising it in the oven. It's actually not a requirement, but he prefers it that way. The casserole is easily put together in three layers of tomato sauce, eggplant slices and cheese. It's a savoury dish that we both enjoy. And a good way to use up tomatoes. The sauce is simple enough; chopped garlic cloves and onion simmered in olive oil, chopped tomatoes and bell pepper added, and also a half-tin of prepared spaghetti sauce. The eggplant slices are sprinkled with a herb mixture and baked briefly in the oven on both sides beforehand.

 

 

Today's ramble through the ravine with Jackie and Jillie was pure pleasure. A gentle breeze augmented the warm atmosphere. There's hardly any foliage left on the trees, now. And the piles of leaves that descended to the forest floor have mostly lost their brilliant hues, turning grey and limp and crusty in turn. There's some squirrel activity; despite the unseasonable warmth, they know instinctively that it's time to gather what they can for their winter pantries.

 

When we returned home, I decided, given the opportunity, to haul out the wheelbarrow and use the bags of sheep manure and peat that we had stored, to enrich the garden beds and borders. The weather was perfect for it; the soil had been turned and I was hoping that using it as compost would further dissuade the neighbourhood squirrels from digging up any of the tulip bulbs I planted last week. Mind, I had poured a little bloodmeal/bonemeal into each of the cavities before depositing the bulbs, and I believe squirrels are adverse to bloodmeal. I did discover that some of the bulbs had been revealed, the soil covering them dug out, but the bulbs themselves were still sitting there, intact.

 

Just about everything has been done in preparation for snow flying in. And there's satisfaction in that; everything shipshape. And just to emphasize how prepared we are, Irving's friend who works as a mechanic for the RCMP and privately has a business where he comes to people's homes to change their vehicles' all-purpose tires to ice tires was by this afternoon to do just that, with ours. 

 

A relative rarity. A day when we're forced to bypass our daily hike through the forests with our puppies, by circumstances beyond our control. And certainly weather falls into that category. Not only do Jackie and Jillie balk at being outside in the rain, but when it rains non-stop, and heavily, when it's cold enough that there's a chance the rain might turn to snow, it's inordinately unpleasant to be out at such times. So we had to forego our walk.

In a sense, we shouldn't have minded, since Mondays are house-cleaning days for us. Irving does the vacuuming and leaves the rest to me. For the past several days he's also been busy down in his basement workshop, having finally decided that it was past time to clear away the waste wood that had accumulated with his many projects. So he was downstairs cutting up the wood that lay in waste piles, so he could finally clean up the floor there where his saws sit. 

 

 

As for me, I felt a little less time-stress while doing the cleaning, with the knowledge that there was no need to race through the dusting, mopping and floor-washing. Actually because I had 'extra' time I decided I'd just go ahead and do other cleaning chores that aren't done regularly. And that included using Swiffer hardwood-cleaning wet wipes meant to be installed on broomlike appliances, only I preferred doing it on my hands and knees.

 

And while I was at it, I thought I might as well wash the floors downstairs in the basement; the floor of the basement bathroom and the large one in the 'recreation' room. These are all past projects of Irving's, installing drywall, room separators, plumbing, electrical work, to create separate, dual-purpose rooms out of the large, open cellar, after we moved to this house 33 years ago. 

I like to plan on what I consider to be quick-and-easy meals not requiring a lot of preparation on days like that. So for yesterday I put a Cornish game hen on the menu, along with an egg-noodle-raisin pudding, and asparagus, with fresh blueberries for dessert. The game hen only needs to be brushed with olive oil, sprinkled with garlic powder and mixed herbs, and stuck in the oven to roast. The pudding just needs the noodles briefly cooked, then whipped up with eggs, pepper and raisins.

 

When we awoke this morning it was to more rain. Rain continued for a few hours, then we cheered when the sun broke through, but that lasted only an hour before the dense cloud cover returned us to darkness. On the positive side, the temperature rose from yesterday's 3C, to 15C today, and since it was humid, it felt quite comfortably warm. Warm enough that our pups were clad in light jackets and the same for us. It felt like such a relief to be out on the trails this afternoon. Jackie and Jillie were clearly delighted, spurred on by the delectable (?) odours wafting at them from the wet forest interior.

There were chickadees about, and a loud chorus albeit off in the distance of crows, and we speculated that they were in an uproar about the presence of an owl; that's what often draws attention to the presence of an owl perched high on trees in the forest canopy, when they're surrounded by indignant, hostile crows berating and harassing them.

We stopped briefly several times to chat with an occasional hiker whom we've become familiar with over the years, updating us on what's been happening with them, or around their community, and when we stood there we were certain that all the signals for a return of rain were present. But as it happened, despite the wind moving bruised clouds above us through the brooding sky, we were able to complete our circuit of the woods without the discomfort of a sudden rain squall. All to the good.

 

 

 

The blissfully warm weather of the last two days was too good to believe, and now that cooler seasonal weather has taken its place, it will join weather annals of whacky unusual records for time-of-year. We're back to putting little jackets on Jackie and Jillie and good heavy warm ones on ourselves. Last night's thunderstorms on Hallowe'en Eve, together with a whomping wind sent the unseasonable warm weather packing. It felt so good yesterday afternoon raking up the piles of leaves that had accumulated on the driveway and front walk. Although it was a trial filling compost bags with wind gusts blasting the leaf piles back to their original, unraked positions.

 

Earlier in the day today, I decided to bake a plum pie. Santa Rose plums, big, red and juicy were on sale when we did our Tuesday food shopping, so I took half of the ones packed into the plastic container, sliced them into a pot with sugar, cornstarch and a small amount of water and let them simmer while we had our breakfast. When I put the pie together and arranged a lattice top crust, I washed the crust with beaten egg and sprinkled sugar lightly over it for a nice, finished appearance before popping it into the oven. 

 

I also prepared a bread dough, which is becoming a ritual for Friday, although the dough won't be used until Saturday to form croissants, to serve with a vegetable soup. Routine that reflects these Autumn months of cooler weather and comfort foods. I used honey, grated sharp cheddar cheese, olive oil, sesame seeds and dehydrated milk, along with the egg left over from the pastry crust wash. And the croissants will be whole wheat-inspired. The dough will sit in a covered bowl in the refrigerator until it comes time to roll it out, shape and bake it tomorrow.

 

When we exit the house with the puppies now, our eyes linger regretfully on what was the garden, our summer pride. It's all prepared for winter onset. Perennials cut back, annuals yanked out to compost, soil emptied from the garden pots and urns. What had been the garden looks dull, wan, abandoned. But for several still-perky little rose shrubs, still putting out exquisite roses. Cutting them back will be the penultimate task to complete the garden tidying-up. After which I still have tulips to plant. Which will bring us lovely surprises come spring of 2025.

 

Our  hike through the forest was beyond pleasant, despite the cold and the wind whipping through our jackets. Water in the creek was surprisingly low, given the amount of rain that fell last evening and overnight. But the forest floor was good and wet. The dry conditions of the past week left the forest in fine shape to absorb the heavy rain that came pounding down last night.

 

We had some visitors during our trek through the trails. Old pals that make a streak directly for us to confront Irving, the Cookie Man. They approach hurriedly, then plunk themselves down quietly and expectantly before him to the great excitement of Jackie and Jillie. They score big when there's an occasional fumble from hand-to-mouth. They're so excited about  the cookies, they sometimes bite them in half as they hurriedly take possession, and the half that falls can't be retrieved by them; Jillie will have beaten them to it. 

We noted that where we had seen a pair of Pileated woodpeckers several days back, the big old poplar that had hosted them now boasts a large cavity. The much larger and older willow standing right beside the poplar evidently holds out no promise for the appetite of the woodpeckers looking for insect and grub infestations. 

 

Jackie and Jillie certainly have selective memories. It's Sunday and they know what's for breakfast. We're all creatures of habit and things fall into place in the sense that certain routines are expected to occur at certain times; it just makes life simpler. They were expecting their treat, one of their favourites. Jillie ate her breakfast this morning, but Jackie turned up his nose -- literally -- at his, although the kibble was made a little more enticing with bits of breakfast melon chopped into it, along with cooked chicken left over from Friday. 

 

He was holding out for pancakes and sausages. He leapt up on the settle in the breakfast room, craning his head around to the stove where I was flipping pancakes, awaiting his treat. His sister sat patiently at my feet, emitting that barely perceptible whine that she reserves for anxiously awaiting special edible treats. Finally after being presented with their treats, Jackie turned his attention to his breakfast and finished it off.

 

 

Today was supposed to be a more leisurely day of rest than yesterday proved to be. Sunny, windy and cold, it was a perfect day to work in the garden to complete winterizing it. Cutting back the last of the hostas, those beautiful plants that look after themselves all summer, but come fall get cut back so when spring eventually returns they're ready to begin growing anew. We've got so many hostas, many of them decades and decades old, and they're huge. It's quite a job winterizing them. Unlike the heucheras that often keep them company that need no attention.

 

The garden pots and urns needed to be emptied of the soil that annuals grew beautifully in all summer. Wheelbarrows full of good soil were taken to the backyard to be smoothed over the garden beds there. Come spring fresh composted soil will fill the pots and urns so that freshly-grown annuals will get a good start for their summer-long flowering.

 

 

Fall garden preparations mean that garden statuary, the urns and the garden pots need winter protection. The next step was to cover them all with a protective plastic sheeting secured by bunjies against snow, freezing and thawing, icy conditions and rampant wind. That was done today, and once it was completed, it was time to meet the weather. A cold day of 8C, sharp wind and heavily overcast; jackets in order for everyone, and off we went for a foray through the forest trails in the ravine.

 

 

The autumn colour has just about spent itself at this point. By early November -- just around the corner -- all the deciduous trees will have shed their foliage. There's very few leaves actually left on the maple, birch, poplar and willow trees, although the beech leaves are still clinging to the trees as are the oak and sumac. The beech leaves are a bright bronze, and the sumac foliage brilliant orange-reds.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie have a penchant for running far ahead of us, although they frequently look back to ensure we're still in sight, for the most part. We usually remove their leashes as soon as we enter the trailhead up the street from our house. Most days we pretty well have the trails to ourselves, but for the past few weeks, others within the larger community have been coming out for at least one tour of the fall woods. Those who avert their heads as they come abreast of other hikers and who cannot extend an acknowledgement of the presence of others don't add much to the experience of a shared appreciation of nature.