We like to think now that Jackie and Jillie are approaching five years of age that they're more  trustworthy. Less inclined to run onto the road when someone happens by. Listening more carefully when we instruct them. Obeying orders not to venture away from us. And, hah! They're healthy, bold, inquisitive little creatures with minds of their own. Jillie is just plain stubborn, while her brother is a trifle clueless at times, tending to 'forget' what he should be remembering.

After breakfast this morning, my husband went out to the front gardens to do a little watering. We're heading steadily toward yet another 30C-day, and the plants are beginning to look a mite parched. The garden bed at the front close to the street has full and constant sun exposure, so little wonder the plants there appreciate a little irrigation. While he was out I thought I'd go out too and meander about a bit, and would bring Jackie and Jillie out with me.

There's always something to do in the garden. Plucking weeds, dead-heading flowers, staking and tying something up. Just tidying things up, mostly, while taking mental notes about what else has to be done, that's too time-consuming to commit to at the moment. Several times I checked to ensure the puppies were close by, on our property. The last time I did, Jillie responded but Jackie was nowhere to be seen. Panic grew as we called for Jackie; he always comes when he's called, little tail a'wagging.

I started to go  up the street calling his name, turned in the opposite direction, doing the same, and walking toward me was a neighbour a half-dozen doors down who'd been in his garage, wanting to know what was wrong. No, he hadn't seen our little black blighter. But then, his face brightened, and  he pointed and said 'there he is!'. At the end of our driveway, and our neighbour  helpfully called out to my husband, not to worry, Jackie was home. Wagging his tail at me, Jackie refused to divulge where he'd been, as we calmed down.

Earlier, before breakfast, we'd been out for a moring stroll through the forest pathways in the ravine, taking advantage of a cooler morning temperature, still reflecting the overnight dip to 16C, and a nice breeze kept us company throughout our peregrinations. It was, in fact, a perfect morning, wide open blue sky, sun peeking through the forest canopy, the trails largely well shaded, the sight of glistening droplets on foliage reflecting a brief shower some time during the night time hours.

For the second morning in a row, we met up with the same mannerly Doberman we'd seen yesterday morning. Some dogs have a habit of approaching silently and softly, their curiosity evident, and despite their size and obvious muscle power posing no problem for small dogs with their irritating habit of snarkily snarling and barking. This morning Jackie and Jillie did none of that, having established during yesterday's meet-up that this lovely dog posed no threat to them or to us.

We've yet to come across a dog in the ravine however large and ferocious in appearance, posing any measure of threat, other than in the winter, nudging into one of us on an ice-slippery trail, innocent of intent. The Doberman lingered briefly as he had done yesterday and then sped off to follow his human again.

Oddly enough for a Sunday which is the one day of the week when we frequently encounter quite a few hikers through the forest, there were scarce few today, far different from last Sunday.  One never knows why. This morning, as it happened, the weather was absolutely perfect, with that prevailing wind, for absolute comfort.

We noticed that while the many Thimbleberry shrubs proliferating throughout the woods on t he forest floor are still putting out fresh flowers, the less numerous wild raspberry plants are beginning to ripen their fruit. The tiny wild strawberries have long since ripened and are no longer to be seen, though there weren't all that many to begin with.

Later, in the early afternoon, my husband went back out despite the heat, to use an extendable lopper to trim the excess, rampant growth of an ornamental weeping Jade crabapple that we had planted decades ago. It was supposed to be a miniature tree, but has attained quite a girth in all directions. I usually trim it as far as my arms can reach, but my husband did a proper job. By that time of the afternoon that section in front of the house was in shade and the wind offered additional relief from the heat. Back out I went to help  him lop the cut branches into manageable lengths and begin filling up recyclable paper compost bags to be picked up on Monday for the municipality's compost project.

Alongside that Jade, there's a Japanese yew, a spirea, a sunset maple and a blue spruce, ranging the length of the driveway, separating our property from our neighbour's. Over the years they've grown enormously closing the gaps that originally existed at the time of their planting. While he was at it, my husband saw to it that the yew and the maple also got a little trimming. We love our garden, but there's no end of work associated with loving it.