The forces of nature can be a frightful menace to humankind as witnessed most recently in the North Atlantic with hurricane force winds and torrential rain making life an absolute abyss of misery in the Bahamas, moving on to the south-eastern seaboard of the United States and possibly laying waste days later as a diminished storm to the Canadian Maritimes.

It is not possible not to feel huge compassion for those in the destructive path of this most recent and dreadfully powerful of nature's tempests. People left without the security of home and hearth, stranded without food, awaiting rescue, and those who have perished, much less those who have been injured and require medical treatment. People's physical harm can, by and large, be dealt with, it is the psychological trauma suffered in the face of such inexorable, calamitous power that may never cease haunting those with the misfortune of having been a victim of such a natural disaster.

We are so far removed from such events. Not entirely, of course, since the area where we live in central Canada has also been inundated randomly by tornadoes, not of the cataclysmic reach of Dorian, but for those affected whose homes were destroyed or damaged, destructive enough. Their homes and their landscape are distant from our own by only an hour's drive at most, at opposite ends of the city.

Yesterday gave us a cool and sunny day with a brisk wind, just perfect for hiking through wooded trails and that's what we did in the early afternoon. We no longer bump into many of our longtime acquaintances accustomed to hiking through the ravine as frequently as we used to, given our relatively new routine-disrupting early morning walks. So that when we're out at a more familiar time and run into a fellow hiker it's like greeting a long-lost friend and we stand around exchanging news for a while. Leaving Jackie and Jillie to stand patiently awaiting release from the agony of patient waiting.

The ripening crop of apples from the feral apple trees are in their glory. Passersby on the trails have picked the easy-to-reach ones, for the last month, enjoying the fresh, crisp and sweet apple flesh, leaving those beyond reach on upper branches and the crown of the apple trees to eventually fall to the ground. And it's those now, still fresh and unblemished, that we newly resort to sharing with Jackie and Jillie.

While we were in the area of those trees we came across a sight we've seen on occasion in other years. A lovely red apple had been pinioned on a sharp bit of branch and there it sat like a Christmas decoration. It had been nibbled by a squirrel who no doubt considered it to have been placed there especially for his delectation. Unless it was the squirrel who had positioned the apple just so, which hardly seems likely.

The later pale purple asters are now beginning to unfurl their delicate petals, following on the proliferation of the earlier-blooming white fall asters. But the most beautiful of them all, bright pink-purple, with larger blooms, their petals more regularly spaced, are yet to make their appearance. They won't be as numerous as the others but they're far more beautiful.

And then, our circuit completed, we returned home. To briefly roam about the garden, taking note of this and that. Determining whether the garden pots could go another day before being watered. Although we've had copious rain lately in a number of heavily soaking rain events, it is the gardens that benefit, rarely the pots. For one thing, the pots are crowded with a season's worth of plant-growth so that the rain fails to penetrate to water the potted soil beneath the plants.

Walking alongside the garden beds and borders we note little floral jewels here and there, a kaleidoscope of colours and sweet form and texture. Nature at her best behaved, the nature we love and which nurtures us. When we venture out into the ravine for our daily walks through the forest trails, it's like having a delicious cake to cap the pleasure of a day; strolling about the garden later is like enjoying the icing on that cake.