We enjoyed a pleasantly cool night; the temperature dropped to 17C, and a hint of a breeze entered our bedroom through the open window. Comfortable enough that there was no need for the floor fans. An amiable night's sleep all around, everyone agreed this morning, Jackie and Jillie eager to greet the new day. Sun blazing through the corner windows at the front of the house, illuminating that room as though a thousand lights were turned on; which in essence, is about right.

So, downstairs we went, glad to see by the outdoor thermometer that the temperature had nudged up by a mere one degree from its overnight low. Breakfast preparations ensued, setting the table, offering Jackie and Jillie a few nips of cheese before launching ourselves on our morning adventure, and off we set, grateful for the breeze that accompanied us up to the entrance to the ravine.

No one about, but then we don't expect people to be out and about on a Sunday when habit persuades most people to sleep in a bit and enjoy a relaxed breakfast, as a break from weekday rushes. That we haven't experienced much in the way of weekday rushes for the past five months is another thing altogether. The simple fact is, habits of a lifetime are not only comforting, but indelibly inscribed in our sub-conscious. 

The global pandemic may have exerted its malign influence to turn normalcy upside down and inside out but what we are most familiar with and how we feel remains fairly constant. The working week in our experience is when we rush about from home to workplace, put in our time, rush back home and in the remaining hours of the day, attempt to do everything that is required to live a constant life.

The relief that the weekend brings with its notched-down hurry-faction is treasured and appreciated. It is, in fact, an illusion that the weekend is a time of leisure and relaxation since whatever cannot be accomplished on a busy workday is left over for the weekend, from doing essential grocery shopping to getting a hand in with laundry and house-cleaning. And then, with whatever time may be left over, leisure is shoe-horned into the remaining hours.

Now that we've been retired for decades, it makes little difference that our time is entirely our own to do with as we wish. We no longer rush out to fulfill the obligations of a workday in nine-to-five employment that's true, but there is no lack of things we're faced with to fill the hours of every day. From finally spending time -- as much as we wish to -- engaged in non-work activities usually termed 'hobbies', to the necessities of maintaining a home, keeping contact with family, and socializing as much or as little as one wishes.

And, of course, top of our list of daily pursuits is ensuring that our two little dogs are well taken care of. Which includes our daily romp through the forest trails with them. And this morning the sun began warming the atmosphere as it has been assigned to do by nature, the sky in which it sailed hosting billowing white clouds near the horizon, limned with the light cast by that golden orb.

A lovely breeze cooled any vestige of warmth that might have attempted to persuade us that we're in the dog days of summer, and then we made the plunge into the ravine, descending the first long hill to access the forest trails, the creek beyond quiet, its waters running low. Whenever someone has been out with their companion dog/s you can always tell by the tell-tale wet pawprints impressed on the dry trail once a dog has reluctantly listened to his human and exited the creek.

Our two little poodles have no idea that they're essentially considered to be 'water dogs' and have no interest whatever in immersing themselves in water, unlike most large-breed dogs for whom a romp in the ravine is incomplete without the opportunity to leap into the water, prance around in it, then emerge to shake off the excess while anyone close to them takes an urgent leave of absence. 

Our previous little miniature poodle, Button, was a different story. It was difficult to keep her out of the water and we didn't mind her immersing herself joyfully in lakes when we would take her canoeing with us as she loved to do. The creek is a different ball game, however. She had once been severely cut when she had been cavorting in the creek with our daughter's then malamute-shepherd mix, thanks to the presence of trash that teens used to toss into the creek; discarded tins and smashed glass bottles.

Today there was no need to offer Jackie and Jillie water to slake their thirst, since it was so extraordinarily cool and pleasant throughout our ravine ramble. We decided to take full advantage of the pleasant atmosphere and the hour of morning, to extend our hike, taking a route somewhat less travelled by us the past several years. A brief consultation with Jackie and Jillie as we conferred had us all in agreement, so off we went, on a roller coaster of a trail; descending and ascending, but then, that's what forest trails in a ravine tend to be like.