Several days ago my husband took a bag of mixed seeds and nuts out to the ravine and sprinkled them in extended piles on the top rails of several bridges. We've noted that the birds and likely squirrels as well are taking advantage of them; most of the seeds have been opened and what is largely left is husks, appropriately. Some of the birds passing through on their fall migration back south need the extra energy, and we've seen that the squirrels and chipmunks have been busy gathering up stores in preparation for fall.

We came across Henry and tiny Taz on our ravine walk this morning. Henry has rheumatoid arthritis and walks with the aid of a cane, but he's in the ravine daily with Taz, his rescue Chihuahua (why would anyone abandon a Chihuahua for heaven's sake? On the other hand, something happened to traumatize the tiny dog, only three or four years old, since whenever he sees anyone he doesn't know, dog or man, he barks furiously. He adores Henry, and is fiercely protective of him, looking at him constantly to interpret his cues. He may be minuscule, but he's independent and more than capable of looking after himself; he allows Jack and Jill to get close, but not too close; he's the boss!) for their long ravine jaunts, always choosing the most physically challenging routes.

Henry's a long-retired member of the Canadian Armed Forces. Because he's now in his older years when he lost his Golden Retriever to age, he and his wife decided to take on a smaller dog, and when they saw Taz advertised by the Gatineau Humane Society they called up and said they'd be right over, reserve that one for us. My husband and Henry had a long discussion about weight-lifting. Henry goes to a gym every few days to use their exercise machines and he tells us about the young and super-fit men and women who hang out there, performing near-impossible feats of strength, agility and endurance.

My husband prefers his weight-lifting at home, using free weights and a routine he put together about five years ago that takes him about an hour and a tad more to get through. He's been frustrated by the fact that he has reached his limit, that he cannot seem to progress any further to putting on additional weights. I'm frustrated when I hear him say these things since for a man approaching 79 he's more fit than most men half his age, and Henry certainly agreed with my take on the matter.

Jack and Jill certainly think a whole lot about my husband's dexterity, in reaching high up into one wild apple tree in particular to select a sweet and juicy specimen that he doles out to them in little chunks. That's what they're passionate about. These last few days are leading us into the Autumnal Equinox, a little later than usual, this year. There's still goldenrod and asters around at the edges of the forest, but not much else. The latest-blooming asters are our favourites; bright purple, large and showy.

Three days ago we had rain and really high winds. There's a particular pine, a large one, standing on one of the hills adjacent the trail whose lean has always seemed quite noticeable. We noticed a day ago that the lean has been hugely emphasized, and it's now pretty lateral to the ground, held up, it seems, by the trunks of two far slighter poplars. The tree split down near the forest floor, likely because it was on such a lean and vulnerable to the force of the wind. Since it almost parallels the trail, it constitutes a potential danger. One I'm sure that someone must have reported to the municipality. Just to be certain I'm doing the same thing myself.