It's only in the last decade that we can ever recall seeing such a seasonal influx of Japanese beetles invading our green space in huge numbers, destroying all the vegetation that they're fond of, leaving those plants they're not interested in. We thought that this past winter's extreme cold conditions might have succeeded in killing off the beetle larvae that burrow into the ground, eating the roots of grasses -- in the process destroying lawns as well -- but it appears that was a faint hope.

They've managed, somehow, to survive even that winter and to return with a vengeance. Mind, we even thought around late June that we'd somehow evaded another invasion, but that was not to be. When our prized Corkscrew Hazel tree, planted around 25 years ago, began finally sprouting its foliage in the spring, it was readily apparent that the damage done to it over the past few years had weakened it considerably; one quarter of the tree appeared to be really struggling to put out its leaves. I haven't much hope it will survive many more of these invasions.

The roses, another favourite of the omnivorous beetles, seem more resilient. Though the beetles tend to gather in numbers on the roses, eating both the foliage and the flower buds, the rose shrubs seem to shrug off the insult, putting out more new growth, for which we're grateful. Though we did lose one very old and reliable climbing rose this spring, and we're not certain whether it was because of the beetle infestation of last year or not.

Now that the Corkscrew Hazel has attained full foliage that area in particular looks fairly pathetic. Our next-door neighbour put up a couple of beetle traps with pheromones to attract the insects and it didn't take long for it to fill up with the beetles, but hasn't done much to diminish their presence. They're everywhere. I've read that a homeowner can do all he possibly can to reduce their numbers in a garden but they'll simply continue invading from the next door neighbour's ... and another neighbour's ... and so on.

In the ravine we encounter them continually in the forest and in fact years ago that's the very first place we encountered their presence. We see the evidence of their depredations, leaving foliage devastated, all that's left of leaves is an outline and delicate traceries like veins embroidering what had once been a large, green and healthy leaf. But we're also seeing asters in bloom and goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace and Yarrow, so all is not doom and gloom.

As for Jackie and Jillie, they're not the least bit concerned. Although truth is, whenever any beetle or fly zeroes in too closely to them they dislike the experience intensely. Should a fly enter the house with us at any time, as they tend to do, Jackie and Jillie make it their personal mission to try to trap the fly, each competing with the other for the opportunity to close in on it and eradicate its presence. Jillie will eat flies, given the opportunity, and we try not to offer that opportunity. Both are ferocious in their dislike the presence of big black, annoying houseflies.

Our puppies were introduced for the first time during yesterday's ravine hike, to an Australian shepherd with a woolly blue-marl coat, that was the smallest of the breed we've ever seen before. And unlike most of the breed we've encountered or become familiar with, this little fellow all of nine years old, was friendly and playful and not the least  bit shy. He left no doubt whatever that he was interested in Jackie and Jillie, inviting them to a runabout with him. And he was just about their size; much wider given his uncut coat, but only a bit taller than they are.

The circuit is rife with opportunities to pick berries and ripening apples now. And so that's what my husband does, meandering here and there alongside the trail to check out the ripeness of blackberries and thimbleberries, with Jackie and Jillie alert as always to the possibilities. They get so many of these delectable refreshments it's almost like another meal in total and their enthusiasm for the endless treats is boundless.

It was a partly overcast day, 28C, and we'd gone out for a morning walk. A quite humid day that eventually turned dark in the afternoon, hosting a few rainshowers. Vindication, if any were required,  for our decision to get out early in the day. When we ambled about in the garden briefly before entering the house and preparing for a shower then breakfast, the garden accommodated our presence with a smiling face as it were, happy with the sunshine that intermittently warms the atmosphere and the continual irrigation courtesy of thumberstorms and rain events.