On these overheated, humid days approaching late summer it is always a relief to plunge down into the ravine with its cooling green canopy shielding us from the sun. For the first twenty minutes or so walking through the forest trails, stopping now and again to pluck ripe thimbleberries and blackberries there is the sweet taste of summer shared out equally among all four of us; Jackie and Jillie, our two little dogs, half of the sharing equation.

Each successive uphill clamber takes its energy toll in this heat, some of the longer ones necessitating that we stop briefly to gather our resources before carrying on. Carrying on takes us to the grove of wild apple trees where some of them are burdened with ripening apples; others bear cranky little apples, sour and unappealing. At this stage in our daily ravine rambles, we're familiar with what most of them produce and know which are juicy and sweet and which are not. though we cannot access those that grow down the steep slopes. Jackie and Jillie are somewhat less particular than we are.

Engleman's Ivy

Where the trails narrow nicely they are becoming crowded with vegetation run amok, and where mosquitoes shelter. We see Engleman's ivy growing luxuriantly, and a few specimens of wild parsnip which we take care not to touch lest our skin react to their poisonous extrusion. And for colour there is now a predominance of goldenrod with occasional strands of cowvetch purple blossoms and the ubiquitous yarrow and Queen Anne's lace.

By the time we reach that portion of our circuit we are hot; we were yesterday quite so, thanks to the humidity, hanging thick and overheated in the atmosphere. We forge on, offer Jackie and Jillie water, and Jillie laps it up, while Jackie is disinterested and fails to respond other than one little obligatory lick before he wanders off again.

Wild Parsnip

A month ago we had noticed the presence of all things, of a tomato plant growing on the verge of one of the paths and it was simple to deduce that a seed had been dropped there by a visiting bird. It isn't the first time we've seen a tomato plant growing there; we sometimes come across lonely and no doubt perplexed little garden plants that arrive via the same route. The other tomato plant we'd seen had popped up too late in the season to get much beyond putting out its pale yellow flowers. This one had long since done so. And we were surprised, yesterday, to note that the plant had already formed several tomatoes. Given the season, there's little doubt it will produce more and most of them will have the opportunity and time to ripen.

Never know what you can find in the forest. Ring the dinner bell -- there's apples and berries, wild ginger and now tomatoes to be found there!