Another glorious day awaited us on Saturday. We were up early yet again, sun streaming through the bedroom window. The day before, while climbing the Welch trail to the ledge, my husband had decided that the climb merited some assistance and looked about for a fallen branch that could pass muster. He had always in the past carried with him an all-purpose Swiss army knife containing a miniature, but efficient saw. He had, in a spirit of generosity, given it away. We had stopped the day before at a somewhat isolated place that we knew carried all manner of knives, but they were awaiting a shipment to arrive, hadn't any with sawblades.

Although we would return a few days later to find the shipment had arrived and my husband then acquired a new knife that would serve the purpose, on this climb he had only a knife without the required saw, so spying a branch on the forest floor that he thought would fit the bill, he cracked off with his foot the length he thought would do, then used his hand on the opposite, more slender end, to break it off there as well to the required height. That end snapped back at him and in the process lacerated his hand, not far from the centre of his palm, affecting the area close to two of his fingers. We always carry first-aid stuff of a simple nature and he was able to clean and bind the wound, and we forged on. The next morning he saw to it that his hand was well band-aided.

But we also decided we'd give the more energetic hikes a break, take a relatively short hike, then drive on to Antique Alley, an activity that always beckons us during our trips to the area. From our more recent experiences, in contrast to what we had come across in the past in the realm of worthwhile objects of art and antiques, we weren't expecting much, but it's always intriguing to look around and see what is available.

Before setting off, the parents of the owners of the place we were staying at happened to be strolling by after a country walk of their own, nearby. We'd met them before over the years. They live outside Boston, in a small community there, and visit as often as they are able to. Their other son and his family live much closer to them, in fact in hand-shaking distance. Their older son maintains apiaries on their property and he produces the best honey my husband has ever tasted, as a honey aficionado. In contrast to our having three children and one grandchild, they have two children and eight grandchildren. That's life.

After our conversation we set off for our day's-worth excursion; a short hike, a long drive, anticipating not much more than the entertainment value in visiting group antique shops. With this in mind, we decided to return to our favourite hiking spot, Smarts Brook, and embarked on a shortened hike on yet another beautiful day, part sun, relatively mild and a slight wind. Just as well a shortened hike was on tap, we were well exercised from our previous two days' excursions, as was Riley.

A taunting, teasing flock of chickadees and the inevitable nuthatch greeted us close to the trailhead. We snapped our share of photographs, capturing some of the multitudes of micro-landscapes we find so admirably picturesque. Then turned back all too soon, to drive off to Antique Alley.

We usually make that drive on trail-inclement days, in pouring rain. Not this time. Since we had fairly low expectations of seeing anything of inherent antique value, given the last few years of scant offerings, we decided to bypass the group dealers we'd seen nothing of note from. To visit only the two Parker-French shops whose offerings, to be truthful, also lacked quality of late, but from which we'd derived so many of the items we now treasure, in the past. There, we took our time moseying about, saw items of absolutely no interest, even as 'collectibles'. Until we came across two elderly figures of Chinese provenance priced amazingly low (at $40 the pair).

We spoke briefly to old familiar faces, then departed. To drive back to Paws, another group dealership we'd dropped by a few days previously, to look into acquiring a pair of cleverly carved marble books we'd picked out, absent price tags. The owner had then priced them, and we returned to pick them up. These clever little 'books' look accurate enough to be tempted to riffle their pages.