The high temperature for yesterday was only 25C, and under cloudy skies with a bit of a breeze, it should have felt warm, not hot. Yet hot it seemed, given the high humidity level. More to come, it seems. By evening rain began falling and down it came through the night. Which has worked wonders for the grass seed my husband has sprinkled on the front lawn over a generous sprinkling of soil and compost.

We knew from the advance weather forecast that we would be in for a substantial heat wave, now on its way. We'll have a high of 32C on Saturday and then we'll likely shatter a heat-record for Canada Day, July 1, when we'll be in 36C-degree territory. That's when Environment Canada and Health Canada collaborate on warning people that such extreme temperatures are particularly dangerous for the young and the old.

Humidity be damned, we made the most of our ravine ramble through the forest trails. And weren't we surprised to note that the muellin this year -- which has attained quite admirable proportions thriving in the mix of sun and  rain so far -- have already begun their flowering stage. All years in this region turn out to be unusual from one year to another, and this one is no different.

And then in our rambles, admiring the proliferation of wildflowers on the verge of the forest, we came across another plant we'd never before seen in the ravine confines, with tiny yellow flowers on long delicate stalks in splendid profusion. Since I'd never before come across the wildflower I thought to do a bit of online sleuthing and I think I've identified it as small-flowered crowfoot, in an area they've never been before, a tall grouping of them, quite beautiful.

Jackie lately has been quite spirited, racing off at the slightest provocation into the forest interior, after squirrels. When he makes his initial sprint, Jillie has a tendency to reflexively dash after him but she hasn't his deep-abiding commitment to making the effort to confront those spirited little squirrels so acrobatically talented, and after her first attempt, just stops short, once within the dusky gloom of the forest among the bracken. Jackie leaps like a miniature deer in graceful spurts, his movement fluid and muscular; Jillie is more of a plodder.

The result of this is that Jackie gets far more exercise, covers far more territory than Jillie does, though she is always the one to be alerted first and to go into a reactive challenge when we come across others on the trails, most particularly those not familiar to her. On those occasions, Jillie is the leader, Jackie the follower.

When they do see others with whom they are familiar, they are excited yet relaxed at their presence, anxious to greet one another, to caper about a bit then move on. Yesterday we came across a fellow traveller excited to tell us that he and his wife had attained a dream and are now the proud possessors of a cottage with a sizeable property and close access to a small lake where motorboats are not permitted and where they intend to spend a lot of their summertime leisure. Their three high-powered dogs, he said are beyond themselves with pleasure.