They know the layout of the ravine intimately; they should, after all, since they traverse it daily and have done so since they were puppies. They know all the cross-trails -- where they lead. they know too, that if they stand on a coll between two valleys in the ravine, height advantages them with longer sightlines where the forest is interspersed by bridges allowing access over the creek and its tributaries and trails providing brief interruptions in the solid facade of the forest.

They enjoy stationing themselves briefly at the top of hillsides, looking down, to see whether there is anyone crossing a bridge, trudging up a hill, and swiftly determine whether that someone -- person or canine -- is known to them or not. Not-known deserves barks informing anyone approaching that they haven't yet the permission of Jackie and Jillie to approach, much less enjoy the confines of J&J's personal precincts. Known, the reception is far different approaching joyful raucousness.

The forest is undergoing not-too-subtle changes in the state of its vegetation. Bracken growing on the forest floor is steadily changing from green to bright yellow. More than that, the vegetation that normally crowds the forest floor has receded notably; there is far less of it, and what is there is rapidly shrivelling, returning to the rotting leaf mass whose richness gave them spring life.

In some areas of the pathways, shed foliage litters the trails. In others, it's acorns, plentiful enough so that the resident squirrels and chipmunks don't appear too frantic about assembling and storing them for winter this year. Not yet, at least. We can recall many years ago when there was an absolute dearth of cones and seeds that threatened the survivability of small wildlife in the forest.

The last of the asters are preparing to bloom, but seem reluctant to fully open their pink-purple blossoms, far superior to the white and mauve and bluish ones that hurried into bloom a month ago. Queen Anne's lace has curled and shrivelled. Goldenrod is turning brown. Pilotweed has reached the end of its bloom time. Shapely and colourful fungi have appeared here and there on tree trunks that have been corrupted, and feeding on the deeply-buried cellulose of old dead tree roots.

The sun's trajectory through the sky has changed so that it filters differently through the forest canopy providing us with a variant on what we were accustomed to seeing during the spring and summer, and surprising us with its much earlier setting time when dusk moves in and swiftly turns to night. All of which have their steady, cumulative effect on how the vegetation reacts to this change into another season....