We lucked in so to speak on Saturday morning when we set out for the ravine just after breakfast. The sky was completely closed in, dark clouds menacing rain, but it remained relatively mild, at 14 degrees, so we suited up for rain and meandered up the street to the ravine entrance. We saw no one else throughout our ramble among the still-colourful trees, dripping from the rain of the night before.

The landscape in there is not yet quite as sere as it will become once November enters, since many poplars and oaks, bass, cherry and above all the beech, still have plenty of foliage left to drift down under expected volumes of rain and accompanying winds. Colour is still manifest though most of the maples and birch are now bereft and stand naked against the backdrop of the dark sky. The forest floor liberally littered with bright shades of yellow, orange, greens and still-lingering reds.

Now it is that the grandeur of the great towering pines that proliferate in the ravine come to full notice, their needles robust, green and appealing against the backdrop of the remaining foliage. Accompanied by the presence of spruce and fir, the conifers sturdily celebrate green. The hills in the ravine are covered with native yew, noticeable now that all the underbrush has been swallowed into the forest floor in preparation for winter.

No need, after all, for the raincoats we wore, since the rain held off for the hour-and-a-half we moseyed about in the forest, seeking paths alternative to our usual ones, our approaches hampered by the stand-still, but ongoing municipal work being carried out in there. Principally that of the removal of the bridges enabling us to ford the ravine creek, to extend our circuit beyond the trail's near reaches.

We haven't seen nor heard woodpeckers in awhile, and there we heard and saw that day hairy and Pileated woodpeckers thrumming away at the insect grubs that live their secret lives within the inner bark of diseased trees. All of the ash trees in this area are being assailed by the Emerald Ash tree-borer, yet another imported threat to our greater biosphere. Like the demise of the elms before them, we've got quite a few ghostly skeletons of elm now being joined by the forlorn spectacle of large, dead ash trees.

The day was about to dramatically change though, since bare moments after we left the precincts of the ravine, the air seemed to become denser and rain followed. It followed us as we drove to the campus of Carleton University. And there we decamped to enter its indoor sports arena where rows of 'antique' dealers had set up their stands. And as we moved along the aisles surveying the offerings, we judged them to be pathetic, quite unlike the display of nature we had so latterly enjoyed.

The remainder of the day resembled a large fishbowl, rain compellingly, furiously copious; the day becoming darker as the hours progressed. A not entirely unpleasant atmosphere, since we were by then snuggled into our comfortable home, the fireplace blazing.