We inhabit a marvelous world of wonders, at once robust and yet delicate in its myriad of ecosystems and landscapes. Venturing out into a forest brings us close to the many and varied contrasts in nature, the incredible manifestations of life forms, the atmospheric conditions becoming acutely and immediately noticeable unlike a life spent in the manipulated shelter of a city environment.

We go out for our daily circulation through woodland trails with our two little dogs for relaxation and for an adventure of the mind stirring perceptions that would not otherwise be alerted to everything that surrounds us. For Jackie and Jillie, exposure to our natural surroundings is completely 'natural' in the sense of their immediate adaptation and presumed sense of belonging.

For us, it's an ongoing awakening of the senses, an excitement of the imagination, an affirmation of life in all its strange and wonderful hues. It was heavily overcast yesterday when we were out on the trails, with a forecast of rain or thunderstorms. Although the temperature was 29C, the humidity was so dense it felt like a physical fog enmeshing us in its hot, moist embrace. Even the breeze, which was brisk, though cooling, couldn't keep up with the heat that we were embroiled in, despite being shaded and canopied by the mass of forest trees.

It was one of those days when the water we carry along for Jackie and Jillie was really needed; often enough they're disinterested even on hot days when they're offered water, but not yesterday. The 'banal' sights we came across as we made our way through the forest fascinated us as they always do. We're aware that most people wouldn't notice these little things, but they please us by their presence and ours adjacent theirs, enormously.

From the sight of two bees industriously working away on a bright purple thistle flower gathering pollen to take back to their hives taking little obvious notice of each other, to the occasional presence of other types of bees, of Japanese beetles, of flies settling on the thistles. These are huge thistle plants, and they've been flowering sporadically for weeks; the earliest to flower are now dried seedheads, their beauty lost, their function intact. And the resulting dried thistle heads cling to anything they can, to be dispersed and to await the opportunity next spring to become new plants. Jackie and Jillie are prime targets for those thistles.

We noted that some of the huge mullein down by the edge of the creek in the ravine have put out small new stalks of yellow flowers, growing underneath the original, tall stalk whose flowering time is long over, leaving a brown, dried ropey-looking stalk, its attractiveness long past. The new flowers are more numerous on their short little stalks than was their presence on the original, extremely tall stalk.

There are fleabane plants sprouting here and there, their delicate little perfectly formed flowers looking as fragile and lovely as they did when similar plants bloomed months ago. Now, however, it's the time for fall asters to make their appearance, and the earliest of them have begun flowering as well. They are charming little flowers but haven't the perfect shapes of the fleabane, though there is a resemblance.

We saw on the stumps or trunks of dead trees ample evidence that nature's endless cycle of renewal; birth and death and recycling is always underway, with fungi and mould hastening the process. Fungi often take on  quite unusual shapes and colours, fascinating to look at. As hard working in their own way as are the bees, both transforming what is, into another form.

And we also saw a dainty little moth nestled on vegetation, content to rest on its green throne, before eventually flittering off as moths are wont to do. Each of these things that we see, that we note, that we marvel at and discuss between ourselves a small portion of the lesson in multifarious life forms and the mysteries of existence that nature gives us daily.