Yesterday the very nice fellow that Mohindar recommended to us was supposed to come over to change the tires on the truck and car. He wasn't able to make it because there was a sudden emergency and he had to take his elderly mother to hospital. Irving and he re-scheduled and he came over this morning, instead. And his mother is going to be fine, set to be released tomorrow morning. Whatever happened, she has stabilized.

Another perfectly divine day, with full sun and a sky etched with random streaks of white clouds that the wind, playing havoc down here, seems to be doing likewise up there, scattering them before theyhave a chance to interrupt the light and heat of that giant electric orb dangling above.

Instead of pancakes for breakfast this morning we had French toast because Irv had bought a few loaves of sliced challah on Friday when he'd popped out to Farm Boy at a time when most people would be having dinner, and so the store was half-empty. Jackie and Jillie know what kind of treat they can expect for each day of the week, be it pancakes, French toast, cereal, chopped boiled egg or fried egg. If we're having it, they're having it. They also shared between them a breakfast sausage, their acclaimed top favourite treat.

Even the wildlife enjoyed some French toast, since there was leftover, and it was cut into small squares to be placed out on the porch alongside the other offerings that Irving insists they still need, long after winter has disappeared. Cardinals and song sparrows and rabbits enjoy them as well. Irving shakes out the seeds from the bag holding my preferred bread that is stuffed with all manner of seeds and the birds particularly enjoy those.

Once the fellow who works at the mechanic shop for the RCMP departed, Irving watered the gardens, and was going to come into the house but Cooper walked down the street from his house to ours to have a long chat. His wife says he seldom speaks much to any of the neighbours but for some reason he enjoys conversations with Irving, and both enjoy talking, so they make a good pair; a conversation that was endless.

By the time he finally came into the house I was finished all of my chores, and we made ready to take Jackie and Jillie out to the ravine for an afternoon turn on the forest trails. Wind accompanied us up the street and then into the ravine. With cool temperature and wind, we have no reason now to curse mosquitoes, they're just not around for now. 

A perfectly lovely day, that seemed to lure people into the ravine, people we've never seen before, often with small children. For the initial ten minutes of our traipse through the trails it seemed as though we were coming across someone every minute. A couple with one little girl, about four, the last such group that we came across for the remainder of our circuit of an hour-and-a-half. Seems people have the urge to get out into nature, but once they're there and experience the rises and descents of the hillsides and the uneven trails their enthusiasm wanes and they make their way back out.

That four-year-old little girl fit the description of a whining child. They had parked on the street then entered the ravine after us, and the little girl was fearful of Jackie and Jillie. We invited the parents to proceed on ahead of us, but they dallied, so we took the initiative and they continued to follow us. Each time either Jackie or Jillie verged close to the child she emitted an ear-piercing shriek that would have awakened the dead, prolonged and deafening. Which of course intrigued Jackie and Jillie encouraging them to feed their curiosity about the strange creature, which only made the child more hysterical.

We weren't the least bit sorry to pick up speed and leave them far behind. It's the time of year when robins are everywhere in the forest. We theorize that they're mostly juveniles familiar with the area returning year after year with their parents. And they have a habit of running about on the forest floor, crossing the trails erratically and most amusingly. 

Later, arrived back home, we usually poke about a bit in the gardens to update ourselves on whatever might have occurred in the long time that elapsed from yesterday afternoon to this afternoon. Little by little the garden is maturing, the hostas assuming their full generous size, filling up the blank gaps, and the roses are preparing to burst into orchestrated bloom.