Irrespective of weather, time of day, season, we never feel that our daily hikes through the woodland trails have been compromised to any extent that the day's outing with our little Jackie and Jillie hasn't been well worthwhile, adding immeasurable quality to our day. When we're there in the winter months we cope with excessive periods of penetrating cold, freezing rain and snowfall and take steps to ensure that we can manage our hour or so on the trails without mishap or misery.

And similarly when it's hot and humid, recognition of those conditions call for measured progress on the trails, refreshing water at the ready for Jackie and Jillie, and loose, brief clothing on us to take full advantage of the shade thrown by the forest canopy and the cooling breezes that still manage to make their way through the thickets of foliage.

Perhaps the best of all possible hiking times are spring and fall, when the air is fresh and uncompromised, the temperature is more kind to man and beast, and the landscape is in the throes of retiring in the fall and refreshing itself in the spring. Then, the appearance of colourful wildflowers create an impressive distraction of pleasurable sightings, and the obverse, when trees launch their own colour-parade as foliage turns yellow, orange, red and all shades in between to allure us.

We're in the in-between period, when the wildflowers have exhausted their seasonal flush, and few are left to hoist their colourful blooms in the foreground of variations of green. And finally, last week's last hurrah! of summer indulging in a heat wave that had us panting as we exerted ourselves uphill and down, has vanished, in its place a refreshing atmosphere of cooler days and much cooler nights, with ample wind and occasional rain.

Jackie and Jillie no longer look forward to lapping long water breaks, briefly breaking off from their scent-foraging and squirrel-chasing as they amble along with us in the forest. And perhaps the addition of another bit of relief adds to the pleasure of our walks, since we're no longer concerned over the large numbers of burrs they pick up as they poke their little heads through the bracken on the forest floor in constant curiosity, picking up even more as they race through the desiccated vegetation now that their hair has been shaved to a manageable level and the burrs no longer stick to their smooth, silky pelts.