We've been plunged unceremoniously back into hot and humid weather, though so far night time temperatures have been reasonably below 20C, allowing us to enjoy whatever night time breezes freshen the air outside as they make their way through our open bedroom window. It has been wet though, thanks to daily thunderstorm activity passing through afternoons and evenings.

Despite the fact that the ravine is now well steeped in rainwater so that when we venture out first thing in the morning there's a rain glaze over all the vegetation, a message is being steadily delivered that summer is waning and autumn is not far behind. Fungal activity is beginning to pick up as well. We saw a white fungus with an intriguing shape on the bark of a long-fallen pine trunk. That autumn is in the wings is not a particularly welcome message, but one that refuses to be ignored.

When we entered the access to the ravine yesterday, a neighbour who lives right at the corner of the street adjacent the ravine entrance came around the corner of her backyard in her pajamas and asked my husband what he was so busy with, scrubbing about in the underbrush. When we explained that we were harvesting thimbleberries she was puzzled, had no idea what they were much less that berries were ripening in the forest undergrowth. But she's inquisitive and always interested in learning and now she knows.

The last of the season's berries are ripening, the sumacs are beginning to show signs of oncoming fall, and poplar leaves keep falling on the trails in bright red shades. In the depth of fall when all the deciduous trees and shrubs are shedding their foliage the poplar leaves are consistently a yellow monotone. But before that time when the occasional leaf comes floating down it's always a lovely bright pink or red.

We're starting to see apples being shed off the wild apple trees. They're ready to be picked. Most people wouldn't look twice at them. They're extremely small, and many of the trees bear astringent, unsweet apples although there are also exquisitely juicy and sweet varieties as well. Sometimes the apples that blush a lovely pink are the least tasty, and those that finish up a deep green, happen to be the sweetest.

As is their wont, yesterday during our hike, Jackie and Jillie heard or smelled the nearby presence of another dog and sprinted ahead of us barking furiously. Soon they came rushing back in as much of a hurry as they had departed, a very large, muscular dog that bore some physical resemblance to them racing behind. They were running back to us in a panic to shelter them from the attention of this large black and obviously very friendly dog.

The dog, we soon learned, was a 9-month-old puppy, despite its size. A serendipitous cross between a Standard Poole and an Irish Setter. Hard to say which of the breeds dominated. He looked like a setter, but also like a poodle, and behaved like both. Full of curiosity and excitement, he bounded about everywhere and was particularly interested in Jackie and Jillie, wanting to play, that much was evident.

His boisterous strength succeeded in bowling Jillie over repeatedly, as she made one futile effort after another to vacate his close presence, as did Jackie. Our two little sprites don't mind bullying other dogs, and they do on occasion, even dogs much larger than they are, puzzled and uncertain over their barking. But when another dog reciprocates by showing interest and indicating its readiness to mix it up, our two are in a hurry to leave the scene. So it's hard to have any real sympathy for them.

If disconcerting events such as this in their perception happen often enough, it's even possible they at some point may realize that their loud, irritating barking habit isn't such a very good idea. Nothing we've ever done with a view to trying to convince them to tone it down has worked. Once the young woman walking the new dog went on, so did we resume our quiet, peaceful meandering through the trails.

And when we did arrive back home, we meandered about a little further, through our own gardens, assessing the condition of the garden pots and the backyard where Jackie and Jillie are allowed to be on their own because it's fenced in and they can't scamper out onto the road as they will do if someone walks down the street with a leashed dog.