Whenever we become too complacent about the weather, nature has her way of reminding us of her less-than-benevolent moods and it never fails to surprise us that a perfectly temperature-modulated day with full sun exposure can suddenly morph in a matter of hours into a perfectly miserable day.
Yesterday was one of those idyllic days of mid-fall, the temperature 'soared' to 10C, under a lovely clear blue sky flawlessly could-free, mounted by a warming sun, and the wind was extraordinarily well behaved.

It was a kind of day of celebration for us since our little Jackie appeared, also suddenly, to have surmounted a bout of illness that had worried us for days, with no discernible cause. He and his sister were excited about the prospect of heading out to the ravine to lope along the forest trails they're so familiar with, and so were we. All the more so, as it became immediately apparent that his behaviour had  reverted from distressingly peculiar and unhappy to his old carefree self.

We noted that in our brief absence, areas in the forest that had seen their deciduous trees bidding adieu to their foliage earlier than others, to steep the forest floor deep in layers of bright discarded leaves with their warm, overall tones of yellows, reds, orange and burnt umber, had in the mere space of the few days we had been unable to trek through the trails, turned that dull brown of foliage too long on the ground.

We soon discovered as we delved further into the network of trails that there were ample leaves still left on other trees -- maple, beech, birch, oak and poplar mostly -- and later to fall, they still offered up the brilliant spectacle of bright autumn hues picked up and illuminated by rays of the sun penetrating now more fully through the depleting forest canopy.

With the exception of Nova, the large white German Shepherd who is a long-time friend of Jackie's and Jillie's, we saw no one else out on the trails, leaving us with that good old impression that these are our personal landscapes. Certainly Jackie and Jillie feel that way, all the more so when they fail to encounter anyone else out forging through the woodland trails, and they believe they're the proud stewards of all they survey.

Yesterday's weather-perfect day, however, led to today's less-than-stellar day, with unending rain. When we awoke this morning the house interior was dark, informing our senses immediately what we could expect fully roused and on the go. But it was expected, since the weather forecast warned of a washout today. Which had made me determined yesterday afternoon to continue stripping the garden of worn perennial foliage while it was still dry and manageable.

And so I'd taken the opportunity to spend a few hours at the front of the house this time, having already tidied up most of the backyard gardens, though there's still work left to be done there. Since the garden pots and urns still look reasonably presentable, I decided to focus my attention just on the garden perennials, cutting back rose canes, peony stalks, hosta foliage and hydrangeas. Since we've so many of all of those garden staples, it took quite some time.

The compostable garden bags that the municipality picks up for recycling into their own huge compost piles hold an enormous amount of vegetable matter. And during that several-hour period of focusing on clean-up, I ended up with four full compost bags to be put out for Monday evening for Tuesday morning collection. While I was at it, I finished up by sweeping the garden pathways and patios of their accumulated garden debris, most of it falling from the ornamental crab apple trees, flowering pea (caragena) trees and magnolia.

I'm counting on the appearance of plenty more days yet to come before the snow flies to enable me to fully get the garden in order to my satisfaction. Last year I planted new tulip and allium bulbs, so I don't intend to plant any this fall. But there is an awful lot of work left to do before I can feel confident that the garden is ready to face winter.