Not long into our ravine walk yesterday morning, we knew we wouldn't need to offer Jackie and Jillie water this time around, even after coursing through the trails and off into the woods, leaping after suddenly-energized squirrels, everyone reacting to a beautifully cool and breezy morning. The difference was the low humidity level. And what a difference it makes even when we're in the mid- to high-20s.

So even though our two little dogs were more physically engaged than has become the norm these hot, 30C+ days, and we rambled about for an hour-and-a-half, they spurned the offer of a cool drink, and that was fine with us. They were all over the trails and into the woods yesterday morning, high spirits and gadfly antics.

And when they came across other dogs taking their humans for early walks to avoid afternoon heat they had a lot to say about how glorious a day it was. Which called for as much companionable ripping about together in the undergrowth of the forest floor as was feasible, given humans' propensity to want to get along with other things and to complete the hike so everything could fit into the course of a day.

There are bright splashes of lovely pink everywhere we look in the forest understory. And if we look hard enough, an uncontested number of hazelnuts ripening, as well. The hazelnuts are not as evident to anyone not knowing of their presence, but it would be hard to ignore the ubiquitous loveliness of thimbleberry blossoms; bright, hot pink when they're unfurling, a lighter shade when mature, and then suddenly one sees the beginning of the berry itself, a bright, inviting red.

There are people who blaze through the trails, treating them as a running track and it's obvious they see and hear nothing of nature, since their ears are usually plugged into a music device and their eyes glued to the 'track' ahead as they muster greater speed to get themselves up the long sloping hills. As for the bicyclists, the same is generally true of them; eyes out for obstacles like tree roots and rocks, not the beauty of the natural landscape to be appreciated for its glory.

Just as well they're in a minority, as most people come in with their dogs so that they and the dogs both can enjoy the serenity of the forest and listen to the drill of woodpeckers, the call of crows, the songs of cardinals and robins, and the scolding of red squirrels. Yet, even among the aggregate of the people we know who make their way around the forest trails, we know few are aware of the abundance of wildflowers to be seen with each season, much less their names.

When we arrived back home we did the usual turn around the garden. Our two little dogs are as amenable to strolling about our little household plot as we are; not that they appreciate the colour and texture of the flowers necessarily, but there are always fascinating fragrances for them wherever they go, apart from the curiosity that the presence of other people walking along the street, moving about on their own properties, incites in them.

Our purpose is to see what has changed in the garden since last we looked, and there are always changes to note. And at the same time consider what has to be done later in the day for short spurts of energy occupied with tidying things up in hopes of creating some order in what ordinarily is anything but a well-ordered garden.

We had hopes for this summer that the vegetation-destructive Japanese beetles that have been arriving in droves around mid-summer, leaving us with the spoliation of their omnivorous feasts on our treasured plants might be avoided, the theory being that their presence is cyclical. We've been on the lookout for them; they wrought such havoc on our Corkscrew Hazel tree the last few years, munching down on the foliage, destroying newly-opening rosebuds and eating all manner of petals to their dark little hearts' content, to the extent that we attribute their predation to the sad and sorry look of the Hazel this summer.

And sure enough, there was the first Japanese beetle we've yet seen. Likely a 'scout', dispatched by the Loyal order of Japanese Beetles to complete a preliminary inventory of what is ripe and ready for the full pack to descend on and destroy.

On the plus side, of course, is that for the most part, everything looks quite good in the garden beds and borders as well as the pots. I can always find fault with my choice of plants, knowing I might have been more careful in selectsing those with the characteristics that make for more graceful additions to the miniature gardens planted in the pots and urns. And inevitably there's some die-back in some of the plants and that's sad.

By and large everything is in fairly good order. And at that time of the morning when the sun shines full at the front of the  house, illuminating the garden with a golden brilliance, our little garden landscapes become downright blinding. Which only adds to the mystique of nature and our appreciation for everything around us.