I targeted today to get on with the garden reconstruction, so when we awoke and my husband suggested since it was a crisply cold and sunny morning, we might want to head off to the ravine for an early morning hike with Jackie and Jillie I was quick to agree. His reasoning was that though it was early-morning-cold with a brisk wind to make it seem even colder, clouds would soon move in and there was a 40 percent chance of rain, according to the forecast.

We geared ourselves snugly for our morning hike, Jackie and Jillie in woolly sweaters, and we taking along gloves. I regretted not having gloves yesterday afternoon when we were out on the forest trails and it happened to be a milder day than today. As we strolled up the street toward the ingress to the ravine, the wind was a breath-stopper.

Once in the confines of the forest, however, the trees provide adequate shelter, not stopping the wind entirely but reducing its discomfort. We had also thought going out earlier in the day would serve to ensure we wouldn't come across quite so many others out on this weekend of colourful foliage. But we'd forgotten that only two mornings earlier when we were out before breakfast we had encountered more than enough of those my husband speaks of as 'transients'.

It was no surprise that once again, despite the early hour, the trails in some places hosted many others with the same idea of 'getting away from it all' as we had. Perhaps if our own little dogs were better mannered and less inclined to behaving badly when other dogs are around that they're not familiar with it wouldn't matter how many people were about. Our notoriously yappy little brats make our forays distinctly less than tranquil with the presence of strangers however, and nothing we've done with them has made one iota of difference.

They're pacified when there's food around, and since we'd embarked on a morning walk my husband brought along cut-up bits of apple for them. Now that's excitement that they find agreeable to their sense of the fitness of things. 

Our amble along the trails this morning took significantly longer than we'd imagined it would. Not only because we took our time to enjoy the sparkling colour under the brilliant influence of the sun, but because we kept bumping into old friends. The first reaction is always pleasurable surprise, and the impulse to stand about talking takes over, because there's never any lack of things to discuss, though most conversations are heavy on the coronavirus, restrictions and the attitude of some who minimize the wretched affliction irrespective of the toll of the disease.

Back home again after breakfast, I quickly cooked up a batch of cranberry sauce, and took a half-turkey breast out of the freezer for afternoon preparation. Then out I went into the gardens to begin the long, onerous task ahead. We've so many hostas to cut back, it takes forever. Along with roses and hydrangeas. Euonymus got cut back as well. We have a holly shrub that we planted back in the Pleistocene period, and it oddly sends runners down underground to pop up here and there, so I had a go at those runners, as well. 

Out came the huge gigantica begonias, the dracaena, the potato vines and impatiens. And it took quite a while to haul down the thicket of morning glories splayed all over the side fence. As I hauled down the thickly intertwined vines, their tiny poppy-seed-sized seeds scattered everywhere and I knew we'd have another generous crop next year.

Those begonias that remained in good shape can be left for as long as possible so we can continue to enjoy them. The marigolds came out but the diplodenia stayed in, still fresh and beautiful, still sending out blooms. Our little carpet rose looks fresher and is blooming more ardently than it ever does in the summer months. When the front garden beds and borders are finished with, then I can turn my attention to the backyard and the borders alongside the sides of the house. 

It certainly didn't feel cool and windy while I was out there working away, though the sun had long disappeared behind heavily grey-streaked clouds covering the sky. But the rain held off and I was able to fill four of those huge compost bags that will be hauled away on Wednesday morning by the municipal collection trucks. By then I was truly exhausted. But I'd made some headway. With luck in the weather and perseverance, a few more days here and there of concentrated tidying up should make the gardens ready for winter.

The street was busy with people walking by with their dogs, children on bicycles, families strolling about, in a manner I've never seen before. I think the shut-down of everything in the spring jarred people into reflecting how fortunate we are in our normal lives. The fact that a second wave has struck and the release of restrictions that had followed in the summer giving way to a reimposition of restrictions has served once again to remind people how lucky they are to be healthy and able to enjoy life, not any longer taking everything for granted.