Yet another one of those mornings when the overnight rain has just stopped and though the sun hasn't yet pierced the grey cloud cover, it promises that it will before long. Unless, that is, rain decides it has first choice of reappearance and sets the sun's agenda intentions back somewhat. A cool morning, with an underlying message that by afternoon the atmosphere will be heated back to its usual dog-days-of-summer temperature.

August, in any event, excels at being unpredictable. Cool enough the past week to pull on a blanket in the wee hours of the night, as night-time air wafts through the bedroom window. Warm enough by mid-afternoon to feel exhausted, working out in the garden, even in the shade. As we did yesterday afternoon. Jackie and Jillie love wandering through the forest trails with us, but they're none too keen to be out in the backyard other than for official business.

Yesterday they tolerated the heat because we were for the most part at the front of the house, working on the gardens there. They prefer being there to the backyard since it's on the street in front of the house that action, if any materializes, takes place with people sauntering by or children riding bicycles, or people walking their dogs up or down the street, eliciting their attention.

It amazes us that last year at this time in the forest we were confronted with the sight of two Himalayan orchids, their flowers radiantly glowing in the sun. This year it's not merely two of the plants that decorate the forest confines before plunging deep into the interior, for the fast-replicating plants have managed in one season  to colonize an entire hillside leading into the forest, their bright pink flowers capturing the sunlight like little beacons of light.

They're late bloomers and still have plenty of time to continue showing off. But in the same token it's become abundantly clear that fall has sent its initial emissaries to stealthily initiate the process of shutting down summer for another year. All the signs are there; random fallen foliage, mostly poplar and maples, standing out for the brilliant hues they've taken on.

And mushrooms which normally appear in fall have begun to pop up here and there. The forest squirrel population has been busy acquiring and storing food to take them over the sere winter months. We've been discovering lots of spruce cones fully or partially taken apart, their seeds either eaten or taken away for winter storage. Similarly, we see the same with acorns, that in fact squirrels nip them off the oak branches not waiting for them to fall, then chew them apart to extract the oaknut.

There were others out and about on the trails, but only a few, compared to yesterday, and with them their companion dogs. So Jackie and Jillie did enjoy some socializing, everyone behaving themselves for a change (which is to say, Jackie and Jillie did; other dogs tend to be better behaved than our two little rascals).

And then, after taking our time lollygagging about we completed the morning's circuit and returned home. In the interim between when we'd set out and returned the atmosphere had turned decidedly warmer, the humidity level had risen, and now that our morning walk was concluded we were prepared to welcome afternoon rain whether thunderstorms of just plain rain. All the vegetation surrounding us love it. A far cry from what is happening in China where monsoon type rains have been unstoppable for months, resulting in massive floods in the central part of the country. To the extent that there are fears the Three Gorges Dam could conceivably fail.