We hadn't seen any snakes while we were circulating ourselves out on forest trails all summer. Now, suddenly, because it's fall and they're on the move looking for dens to while out the winter months and just incidentally now that it's cooler looking for places to sun themselves, they're in evidence. Yesterday's sighting was the third in a week and a half.

And this time it wasn't we who had spotted the little garter snake, but surprisingly, Jillie. She had stopped just where the trail verges onto the forest floor and thickets of trees and had performed an impressive back-leap as though she'd been stung. She hadn't been stung, only surprised. At the presence of a creature she was wholly unfamiliar with. She bent to sniff at it, and that's when my attention swivelled toward the little scene, asking her what she was reacting to.

And that's when I saw the snake, hastily retreating under underbrush, intending to escape from her curiosity. It was slithering off, turning to look back at her, and raising its little head to appear threatening. She lost interest just as mine picked up. And I watched the snake retreat only minimally, satisfied that the threat had passed because its head was by then securely ensconced within vegetation, leaving the rest of its body fully exposed.

It was another of those damp, warm days when the temperature rose to a breezy 22C. But the sun had come out, illuminating everything beautifully. And it had plenty to illuminate; the trees are steadily divesting themselves of sap, sending it to their roots and the foliage they host is responding colourfully. The trails are becoming lofty with discarded, colourful foliage.

As well, because it's fall, with darker days and shorter days, and rainy days, fungi appears fancifully here and there, notable for colour variations and creative shapes, arresting our attention with the fascination of nature's pungent sense of humour.