Saturday, day of leisure. A sleep-in morning. But not too sleep-in, since Jillie won't stand for it. It's the only time we hear her whining. It's her 'get-up-you-lazy-good-for-nothings-and-feed-me plaint. And of course she's perfectly right. We are lazy, and we love it. But we do eventually respond to her reasonable demand, stretch, toss off the bed covers and emerge.

This morning the emergence was to the brightest of bright mornings, sun streaming through the windows. No rain in the forecast, all's right with the world. Not that we so much mind rain, it's just that we've had more than ample rainstorms and think both we and the landscape deserve a break. Above all, Jackie and Jillie approve of no-rain days, it make life that much less complicated for them.

A lazy morning morphs into a lazy take-your-time breakfast. Complete with the Saturday newspapers. And special treats for Jackie and Jillie who know all about weekend breakfasts, a little more time-consuming to put together, a bit more relaxing in the consuming of same, and a relaxation of the 'rules' surrounding table food for two little dogs.

Not to waste any part of the day, off we went as soon as we cleaned up from breakfast. Because it's fairly cool with a brisk wind (ameliorated by full sun) we dressed accordingly. I pulled on a woolly headband for the first time this fall. Gloves an asset as well.

That brisk wind created a dancing chorus of treetops in the forest canopy. The sound of the wind whooshing through the foliage, the sight of the tree spires waving back down to us. Wisps of pure white clouds began to decorate the otherwise-azure sky as we trooped along the forest trails, kicking up newfallen leaves as we descended and ascended hills. 

The really brilliant reds seen weeks earlier have transitioned from their perches on branches to spiral gracefully down to the forest floor. The prevailing colours left are those of the Norway and sugar maples that bear bright yellow foliage. Almost the same yellow as the poplars and the birch trees. The beech are now that warm, rich orangey-bronze colour, and the oak leaves are somewhat similar, only more brown in colour.

The wild apple trees and the hawthorns' foliage are fairly undistinguished, and they've abandoned their trees in favour of littering the ground. Few apples among them this year for some reason; my husband says a spring frost had nipped the flower buds, though we can't recall this past spring being that inconvenient. As we wandered the trails, we stopped now and again, just to watch as the wind picked up pace intermittently, blowing leaves through the atmosphere, a mesmerizing sight.

Despite the wind and the sun, there were patches of trail that still hadn't absorbed all the rain that had fallen in days previous. When we arrived back home, it took forever to clean the puppies' paws from the slick muck they had trod through, despite the thickness of the fallen leaves on the ground.

And then, out I went to tackle the gardens again. Still lots of hostas to cut back, rose canes and euonymus, trimming trees, cutting back hydrangeas and hibiscus. I hadn't the heart to uproot the last of the geraniums, the begonias, even a few impatiens, because they still appear fresh and defiant of the cold nights hovering at the freezing mark.

Then into the house to put together miniature challahs to accompany a cream of cauliflower soup that's on tap for dinner tonight. And oh yes, chopping up little pieces of raw cauliflower so Jackie and Jillie don't miss their afternoon treat.