Summer is on the cusp of closing out. But then there's the prospect of early autumn with all its colourful visual splendours to look forward to, a time of nostalgia, bringing back memories of so many years before.... Still, the thought that late summer is upon us and beginning to fade is fairly disconcerting. We just keep asking ourselves where the days went, so quickly we hardly noticed.

It's cooler at night now, no need any longer to use the floor fans in our bedroom. We notice that dusk is falling earlier than we've latterly become accustomed to. And in the morning it's far cooler than it has been throughout the deep summer months. So that even though we continue for the present to take our daily ramble in the ravine before breakfast to take advantage of the cooler hours before the heat of the afternoon strikes, we're also putting on jackets.

The interior of the forest is always cooler than the temperature prevailing at street level. In the winter it's the reverse. But now we are able to appreciate the cooler forest interior, glad to leave the direct sun falling at street level behind. The sun manages to penetrate the thick leafy canopy of the forest in any event. Sometimes it's welcome when we feel really chilly, though exposure doesn't last long. And sometimes the sun is so brilliant it's downright blinding.

As we stroll along the forest trails we invariably pass the forest undergrowth of blackberries and thimbleberries that offer enterprising fingers some treats to share with Jackie and Jillie. Not to mention the ripening wild apples, tantalizing with their promise of juicy sweetness -- as long as one takes care to select only those from years-proven taste-sensation season after season, by-passing those known to be unfailingly astringent and unsweet.

It was one of those mornings when there were few others along the trails, although Jackie and Jillie did come across one friendly little fellow they've seen on a few earlier occasions. As usual, though the temperature feels chilly when we set out, by the time we complete an hour's circuit and return home we've warmed up nicely, thanks to the energy it takes to climb uphill and down in the ravine's precincts.

We did, after all, have a very warm day by afternoon. Nevertheless we set ourselves some outdoor tasks; my husband to finish scattering enriched garden soil over the front lawn and then grass seed, tamping it all down  and lightly covering the seed, hoping to attain the quality of lawn he'd managed to succeed with last summer. This will be his third such effort this summer alone.

Little did we realize that the perfect lawn he managed to grow last year after it had been ravaged by Japanese beetle grubs wouldn't return this year, a casualty of the lawn being dug up in mid-winter when Bell decided something wasn't working and had to be replaced with our landline and Internet connection. In spring, when all the snow and ice had evaporated, contractors had come around, filling in the hole previous contracts had left, smoothing over the ground, topping it with topsoil, then grass seed, but the lawn that resulted was pitiful.

While my husband worked on the lawn I cut back a too-enthusiastic spirea that felt entitled to take up an intrusive portion of the driveway, and decided to fertilize the garden pots and urns as well as some of the garden plants. By that time of day, mid- to -late afternoon, the sun has moved from the front of the house to the back, so we had shade and we had wind to make for a more comfortable working environment.

And then once back in the house, I put together a salad that would be accompanied with marinated herring, bread and grapes. A bean-vegetable salad that incorporated mixed beans, cocktail tomatoes, miniature cucumbers, crispy snap peas, baby bell peppers, sliced green onion, and a simple dressing of salt, pepper, white wine vinegar and olive oil over a bed of lettuce. Chilled, it's crisp and delicious.