Lots of action in the ravine this morning. We chalk it up to the fact that it's Saturday, even though nothing else resembles normalcy in the aftermath of the coronavirus lockdown. Even though businesses have been opening up, most people are still not back to work, other than those in the service industries where you just cannot 'work from home'. We've seen more than our share of aimless wandering about in the ravine by people not accustomed ordinarily to seek out natural landscapes. But it's been whittled down considerably.

Yesterday for example, no one else out and about but us. But today; different story altogether. However, the nice thing about running into all kinds of people and their dog companions today was that they were all -- with the exception of one woman and her beautiful red tick coonhound neither of whom we've ever seen before -- familiar to us.

 Jackie and Jillie had triple treats going through the ravine today in the nosh department. Not only were they presented with a choice array of sweet juicy thimbleberries, but there were some blackberries ripened as well. And though there's scarcely an apple to be seen on the wild apple trees that are normally burdened with scads of apples ripening in late summer, we espied an apple sitting beside the trail, cast off from the tree that bore it.

On impulse, my husband picked it up and examined it. It looked perfectly presentable, not a blemish on it. Not ripe, not yet, I told him authoritatively. He brushed it off, wiped it on his sleeve and took a bite. Perfectly edible, juicy, ripe and sweet. Another treat for Jackie and Jillie. Leaving me to wonder whether on our return home they'd be interested in their breakfast. 

And that's about when we came across the red tick coonhound and were impressed by her lovely conformation and even lovelier personality. When we were living in the U.S. southeast we would sometimes see this breed, hunting dogs primarily, and we've never seen one before here, at home. The sound its baying voice resounds with is just really impressive. What she did was 'speak' to Jackie and Jillie, and far more politely than they did to her.

This morning was beyond beautiful; cool and sunny, the morning sun doing its utmost to pierce the full-leafed masts of the forest canopy. A slight breeze added to the comfort. But we knew this would be dissipated by afternoon when the full heat of the day set in to give us 30C. 

We met up with another friend with whom it's not quite possible at any given time to move on after greeting, and so we stood in the shade of the forest talking about various episodes in our lives and that of others, of current news and neighbourhood gossip. And all the while, Rex, the elderly Rottweiler with the calm disposition did the sensible thing; hunckered down to wait it out.

Soon afterward we met up with a young couple we've come to know lately and their boxer-pitbull cross, a quiet and well mannered companion with whom Jackie and Jillie get on quite well. And then, the woman with the coonhound crossed paths with us again and the two large dogs began to chase one another and tussle together and Jackie and Jillie tried to make up their minds whether the two were playing or threatening one another. 

As we finally continued on, we were finding more blush-pink poplar leaves discarded from the trees, a puzzling phenomenon that we've become accustomed to seeing in mid-summer, long before poplar foliage turns a more uniform yellow colour in the fall. We've no idea why this happens, but then in the same token we have no idea why we've also begun seeing bright red maple leafs fallen on the trail, long before they should be turning colour and detaching for winter.

As far as we know there's been no weather-induced stress, no shortage of rainfall nor of sun. And then we turned our way back to a trail taking us to the last of the bridges we cross and over to the last of the hills we would climb to make our way back home. Where, after breakfast, I prepared a potato salad to refrigerate it for dinner, and baked a batch of oatmeal-date cookies.

Then went out to water the garden pots, and my husband took over the watering to do the garden while I began to tidy up the gardens, doing some snipping here and there to achieve a half-hearted but entirely sincere appearance of order in our normally quite disordered garden beds and borders. Any kind of physical activity on a sunny, warm day approaching hot should be strictly limited.

So that's when my husband decided he would prepare a pail of soapy water and clean off the exterior of our two garden sheds which over the years have begun to host a gathering collection of mould on the surface. It washes away readily, and once rinsed with clear water the siding looks shining clean and new again. But in this heat and at his age, not that super an idea. An opinion I proffered and he as usual took note of, as he set about cleaning the siding.