Residual humidity combined with an already-heated morning convinced us yet again to embark on a morning tramp through the forest today. First, we set the table for breakfast, doled out little bits of cheddar cheese for Jackie and Jillie because their breakfast would be delayed, and then we set off, the glare of the early morning sun calling for sunglasses. And a water bottle slung over my husband's shoulder so our puppies could be offered a cooling drink halfway through our circuit.

It felt hotter than usual, yet not as oppressive. Last night's rain had succeeded in dispelling the humidity, so today is one of those dry-heat atmospheric days. Water down in the creek is much reduced, but it was running clear. It's an indication when we see it muddy that a passing dog has cooled off in the stream, but no such signal this morning. At least not under the bridge we were crossing to gain access to further trails.

We were set upon by the second infestation of mosquitoes, the middle wave that the forest usually hosts through the spring, summer and fall. The  wave is always comprised of larger mosquitoes, slower, and not too alert that we usually whack off our skin as they're driving that anaesthetic contriving to dull us to the sting of their drilling that proboscis into us, to draw blood. The second wave is comprised of much smaller, black mosquitoes, more agile, and whose 'bite' is more compellingly noticeable. We tried to keep the back of our necks in particular as protected as possible, but the sneaky little devils will have their way.

The immature, but thriving elderberry trees down by the creek have now fully opened their floral panicles, and the individual bright white blossoms are quite beautiful to appraise close up and personal. Any tree that is able to reproduce itself at the rate that the elderberries have done at the edge of the forest in the ravine, is a certain survivor as a species.

Before too long a young woman passed us, following in the trail of her little schnauzer who was happily dashing uphill and down after squirrels. When he spotted Jackie and Jillie, they became his alternate target of interest, as he invested himself off-leash in dodging back and forth between them, inviting them to play. The young woman whom we were unfamiliar with asked if our house was the one with the stained glass windows, and from that we were given to understand she lives on the same street we do. Down the street quite a bit, newly moved in.

In fact, a month ago a young man had approached us on the trail to ask my husband if he remembered him, and he did, though I wasn't able to. Evidently they had lived for a while on a street behind us and we'd seen him then occasionally with a Bernese Mountain dog, before they moved abroad as members of the Canadian Armed Services. Now they're back, bought a different house, preferring to live close to where they were familiar with.

Later on, another young woman we'd met several years back with a malamute, when she was expecting a child, came toward us on the second of the bridges we cross, pushing one of those very sturdy baby strollers meant for rough terrain, her daughter now over a year in age, alert to her surroundings, smiling happily. It takes a strong young woman to negotiate even a stroller of this tough design through the ravined terrain, but she manages nicely, and we've never seen her without a broad smile on her face, so it's abundantly clear who her daughter takes after.

We're now seeing other wildflowers adjacent the forest trails, and today we saw chicory and ragweed, both of which we were surprised to come across, since in our minds they usually appear much later in summer. But this has been an  unusual summer in many ways; this just another one.

The Staghorn Sumacs are launching themselves everywhere. We've seldom seen so many new little understory trees settling into the forest floor. It really has been an excellent year for forest vegetation to establish itself in full panoply of display. Immature as the young trees are, they're bursting with candles, soon enough to turn bright red; at least in time for autumnal display.

Our usual habit is to do a brief turn in the garden before entering the house, just to check on how the garden pots are coming along, whether anything needs watering or tending in any other way, like deadheading geraniums. And usually we remind ourselves that we really have to get around to sweeping up the organic detritus falling from shrubs and trees onto the walkway. And then speedily forget it.

After breakfast, I decided that today I wouldn't bake anything for dessert despite doing so routinely on Fridays for dinnertime dessert. We just have so much fresh fruits in the refrigerator; strawberries, blueberries, peaches, grapes, cherries. So, fresh fruit it will be. Then I somewhat relented, figuring cookies could be eaten alongside fruit for dessert. So I simmered a slurry of dried dates to a paste, and prepared a quick and easy cookie dough, rolled out rounds, filled them, topped them, and voila! cookie sandwiches....