Yesterday it appeared that a fair number of dogs succeeded in persuading their people that it was a perfect day to head out for a traipse on forest trails. And assuredly Sunday was just that; balmy to the point of being a tad too warm at 27C, along with high humidity. Everyone seemed glad to discard the cool weather gear we'd had to resort to in the past several weeks that marked a cooler-than-normal first half of September.

Bare arms and hot weather are natural accompaniments. 

Trust the official arrival of fall to trick us all into believing that summer had returned. It was, of course, late summer reacting to the general disappointment that the season had gone so fleetingly, commanding summer to react as though there had been applause, mandating a brief return to the stage for an encore. Muchos gracias!

Even the last of the seasonal wildflowers looked perkier than usual, going out of their way, putting on a special show for us and greatly appreciated. We came across the last we could see of the Himalayan orchids in splendid pink flower, this time with a much shorter stem than is usual with this wildflower, hosting a small bouquet of those delightful orchids.

And elsewhere, among the bracken on the forest floor, both Black-eyed Susans and asters comfortably leaning against one another, complementing each other, in an obvious conspiracy of conceit among the fading vegetation which the slighter daylight hours has caused, as the floor of the forest begins to subsume the once-green plants, now turned pale yellow and fast-fading.

And we can't overlook the fungi that so abruptly manifest their presence at this time of year. Toadstools on this occasion, establishing themselves comfortably at the base of tree trunks, the mushrooms large and appealing to the possibility of decorating a dinner plate.

We did see some people we've become acquainted with over the years, out with their companion dogs, amiably trailing after the dogs, just as we do. And we came across a mother and daughter walking their two very small dogs -- none of the quartet being familiar to us at all. Which mitigated against just walking on, demanding the courtesy of a brief conversation.

Which is to say, the four people involved began a discussion about small dogs, and the four small dogs, Jackie and Jillie and the two little dogs that were easily half the size of ours, one a Chihuahua mix, the other a Yorkie-Pomeranian mix, found common ground in a sense related to their diminutive size.

The usual canine introductions were made; intimately rude should humans ever perform such rituals, but customarily mandatory, it would seem, for dogs to introduce themselves to one another.