This month a year ago beavers were busy taking down quite a haul of poplar trees in the forest. We grew accustomed to being faced every day with the scene of new trees having been taken down some time during the day before, presumably when no one was around to witness those busy harvesters. By the time November turned into December they had managed to secure for themselves all the branches and limbs they thought they'd need to make their dam and underwater lodge for the coming winter.

They had left several trees in what seemed like a fairly parlous state; their sharp teeth had gnawed right around the bark of each, effecting the spring sap ascent, and made significant cuts on either side of both trees. Yet they hadn't bothered completing its take-down. So both trees have stood for a year, appearing like a convincing hazard in waiting.

Yesterday's incessant hard rain and bellowing wind brought down one of those trees over a portion of the trail. Where the beavers are at this juncture is kind of hazy. When the hillside close to our street leading into the ravine slumped in the spring the beavers made their hasty way over to what resulted when the clay clogged up the creek and created a sizeable pond. They swiftly established a presence there. One can only imagine their disgust when remedial construction was initiated and bulldozers came in to free up the creek's runway.

With each day that passes now, every time we enter the forest we can see the difference that has occurred overnight. Last night we had frost and we'll have frost again tonight. Our gardens haven't been affected yet because they're so drenched from all the rain. When gardens are wet to that extent cold of that nature fails to create the havoc that will arise when deeper frost occurs.

Meanwhile, the garden remains colourful and the forest becomes increasingly colourful.