Early this morning we were looking at another day to match Tuesday's all-day rain. That's the day when there were no gaps in the weather that would allow us to slip out of the house and into the ravine for a short hike through the forest. This morning the sky was heavily overcast with threatening-dark clouds. The forecast warned that the sky would tip into rain by some time in the morning and continue for the remainder of the day.

Jackie and Jillie cocked their little heads at us and as good as said, what next? So of course it was a no-contest decision just to leave the house as soon as we could, and that took place when we pulled on raincoats for all of us and set off. Cool, light wind and a dusky atmosphere. As it happened, the rain held off for the entire time we were out. While we sat at breakfast some time later, down it came, torrentially. 

For the first twenty minutes of our hike through the trails there was no one else but us to appreciate the opportunity and savour the sight of the landscape deep in coloured foliage; more on the ground than on the trees as it happens. Some trees turn colour early, others are simply laggards. So the leaf mass is mostly still verdant, but slowly changing, while those trees that had blazed their bold colours early are now a little embarrassed. They're fairly undressed, surrounded by still-formally dressed forest.

It didn't take long before we began coming across others out early for the same reason we were, reflecting a reprise of Tuesday when no chance was given anyone to get out and mosey about in the forest. We had suggested to ourselves before leaving the house that it would be a 'quick' turn in the ravine, because we had a busy day ahead of us. We'd be out, we said, no more than an hour.

Well, reality was different. We stopped to talk -- sometimes at length with some of our old ravine friends and acquaintances -- so frequently that we were double the time we meant to be. But if we were to choose an atmosphere and a landscape more conducive to wanting to remain and linger, this would be the place. Some of our old hiking friends we hadn't seen for months, and there was quite a bit of catching-up to do.

Along with them were, of course, their companions and Jackie and Jillie were as busy as we were, re-acquainting themselves with old familiar playmates. Even as we would stand talking, others would happen along, until we became a little group, with everyone offering their views on any given subject. With a little crowd all maintaining distance, it can be a challenge to hear everything coming from different directions.

After a much-delayed breakfast my husband decided he'd take the car to Canadian Tire for an oil change, and to get the winter tires put on. That's one thing about a partner who doesn't drive. The one who does, is inconvenienced at such times. Driving the car to the garage for servicing, then walking back home while the work is being done. Hours later comes the call that the vehicle is ready to be picked up, and another walk ensues to arrive at the garage and take possession of the car.

While he was there he bought a new electric kettle. The one we've been using for decades finally pooped out a few weeks back. And so, winter ice tires are on, the car has been serviced, and now all that remains is to have it oiled against rust before winter sets in. It's been known to snow, sometimes heavily here in November, and it's a nuisance to get caught short. (Ottawa rivals Moscow and Ulan Bator for credit as the coldest, snowiest capital in the world. And don't we know it....)

Getting it all done before the big rush is on is also a bonus. Mind, it meant that all this had to be done under lowering skies that erupted heavy rain, and carrying a large umbrella for shelter from the weather. So my husband spent two hours in the ravine this morning, another half-hour each way, from and to the garage getting the car serviced.