Although at 32C that's hot enough, where our son lives in Vancouver the thermometer got no higher. The awful stories of some areas of the city hitting 40C conjured up stark visions of people dying from heatstroke. It's a vision, however, that became a reality for over a hundred people, most of whom were elderly, with underlying chronic health concerns. In a coastal city known for its moderate temperatures, only 40 percent of households have air conditioning. Not that that's any consolation. Our son still went out for a day of alpine hiking for fresh air and exercise; in the cool shade of the forest there is relief. He's busy as always and the heat is just another distraction. And he had his second dose of vaccine on Monday, so that's good news.

My sister and her husband have also had their second doses, as did our older son, in Toronto. Younger than me by four years, my sister's no longer able to do much of anything, not even accompany her husband to do the grocery shopping. Aside from the fact that she's legally blind, she has been suffering from a sciatic nerve inactivating her through constant pain. If it were not for 'talking books' sent to her regularly by the CNIB there would be little of value to her day-by-day existence. We're hoping things will improve for her.

Which makes me so grateful for everything that we have. There was a slight cooling-off this morning, and we tootled around the backyard with Jackie and Jillie a bit after breakfast. Just looking at everything that has grown so spectacularly this year. Surprising squirrels and birds along the back fence. Picking weeds. Emptying the bird bath for a fresh infusion. There was a light freshening wind, and it hadn't yet got hot though the sun was out.

When we went back into the house there was a sudden downpour, splashing heavily on the landscape. A surprise, even though the forecast was for rain events. We've had so much rain alternating with sun it's little wonder vegetation is robust and healthy. We had things to do in the house, and planned to go out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie shortly. 

Irving went off to do a few errands. Today is the official 'opening' for Ontario; all hitherto closed enterprises allowed to re-open with some constraints. He went off to our local hardware store to pick up a few fluorescent light bars, several window blinds and some other hardware. And dropped by the nearest Farm Boy location for Feta cheese, wine, and bagels. Neither place had many people shopping there, though Irving said traffic on the roads was as dense as it would be on a late Friday afternoon of a long weekend. Everyone frantically heading somewhere. 

When we did get out with the puppies it was warm, but the wind had picked up considerably. There was some sun, but also plenty of clouds, some of them menacingly dark. I stuck sunglasses on my hair, we wore light clothing and thought, if it rains it's hot enough so we shouldn't much care. We planned on a shortened circuit because of the atmospheric uncertainty. But sure enough, once in the forest interior it became progressively darker. Irving offered the pups some treats to calm them.

Jackie and Jillie seemed somewhat disconcerted by the unaccustomed darkness, even though the forest interior is often dusky. Soon we heard a light patter informing us that rain had begun. We could see its pattern on the floorboards of the first bridge we crossed. When we attained the height of the main trail, the illusion that rain would be light and brief was soon shattered. The light rain turned to a deluge, thundering through the forest canopy, a fierce wind swaying the tree crowns.

We stopped briefly now and again under particularly large trees, but the canopy was already in a state of sodden excess from earlier rain, and it all came gushing down. Since it was still warm enough, we didn't mind all that much, but that was us, not Jackie and Jillie. They picked up pace, stopped to shake themselves now and again, and finally began to make a desperate dash for home through a route they know well. We had to recall them, put them on leash and calm them down, their discomfort more than evident.

Wave after unrelenting wave of warm, thick rain enveloped us. One wave would recede, the rain become a light patter, then minutes later, another wave erupted. By the time we reached street level, the ferocity of the rain abated considerably and became a moderate, steady rain. We were, of course, drenched, so the fact that we were walking in rain hardly impacted us, and there was no need to hurry along.

Once home, Jackie and Jillie quickly entered the garage and remained there patiently waiting while Irving and I did a little round of the front gardens. Everything immersed in rain, rain still pelting down, the colours of the garden gloriously vibrant.

Dreaded Tuesday morning done and over with. Couldn't persuade Jackie and Jillie to nibble some tiny cubes of cheese as usual pre-breakfast this morning. They were too busy appealing to us with their hurt eyes at being abandoned, left bereft of our presence, to take notice of the offering. They sniffed disconsolately at the cheese and politely declined, fixing their large liquid eyes on my hard eyes that told them, no matter how badly you feel, little guys, the grocery shopping has to be done.

On our return, the mad jubilation! Leaping frantically around us, emoting those pitiable little sounds that translated tell us 'you're back, thank heavens you're back, we had given up hope, clinging to memories of you, feeling that this would be all that was left of our blissful existence together...thank the stars you've returned safe and sound ... now, where's our treat!??' 

Once they settled down, we got to work putting everything away, with Jackie and Jillie giving directions, making certain we knew what we were doing. And oh, can we have another little piece of cauliflower while you're at it? Irving ever so happy to oblige his little charges.

Another close, hot and humid day. Thank heavens, no more rain in sight. Oh well, the weather report advised possibly a thundershower. So after breakfast we made quick preparations to hie ourselves off to the forest. Jackie and Jillie expect no less, hovering about us as we cleaned up after breakfast. You said we'd go out early today, so what's taking so long? Can't we just go?, they whined.

And we were ready, even got their collars and halters on and preparing to leave the house, when ... rain. Just a shower, we assured one another. We'll wait it out. And wait we did, as the rain increased in volume and became serious rain, no mere shower. So as not to waste time after we shed the brats of collars and halters, I set about pre-preparing dinner.

For which I needed two mixing bowls. One for the crepes, the other for the cheese filling. I planned to use ricotta instead of cottage cheese. Flour, salt, eggs and milk for the crepes. Ricotta, sugar, egg yolk, vanilla for the filling. It takes no time at all to prepare the crepes; they do very quickly. As soon as they cooled on went the filling, the crepes then carefully folded to enfold the filling, then refrigerated until dinnertime when they'd be quickly finished on both sides, in butter. 

And finally the rain stopped. While the sky didn't exactly clear, the clouds were lighter in colour and some blue could be spied in little corners here and there, so off we went. Into a drenched forest, whith vibrant green variations in shade, dripping, dripping. But the rain had cleansed the air and it was cooler.

The dense, humid heat of the morning had dissipated. The temperature had fallen several degrees and the wind actually felt cool, not overheated as it whirled about us. Once we descended into the ravine the atmosphere changed completely; damp and cool, relief from the overheated humidity of the past several days, much less the morning.

No one else about, though we decided to take a longer circuit in the certainty that rain wouldn't fall again while we were out. So we took our time, and just basked in the emerald cave the forest had become, cool and brilliant with vibrant rain-washed colour shades. Then we decided to take an extra jog over to the 'meadow' part of the ravine beside the creek.

There the trails passed alongside daisies, fleabane, cowvetch, ragweed, Black-eyed Susans and thimbleberry shrubs, all in beautiful flower. The dense beauty of it all makes us slow down and bask in the textured colour of it all. 

Fridays is when I cook chicken soup for dinner. Just one of those traditional things. And usually rice to accompany it. So I cook a little extra rice and refrigerate it until Monday. Monday morning that extra rice gets hauled out, milk heated up in the microwave, the rice placed in a pot the milk poured over, and the rice then cooks gently in the milk while we have our morning shower. I come downstairs first, and feed Jackie and Jillie, and add some brown sugar, cinnamon and raisins to the rice and more milk if needed. It makes for a creamy, delicious breakfast.

Of course that's not all we have for breakfast. Tea and coffee invariably follow, lots of cups for each of us. I'm the tea person. Aeons ago I used to drink coffee too, but with our first pregnancy in our fourth year of marriage -- that would be 62 years ago -- I conceived a violent distaste for coffee. And that 'allergic reaction' never left me. So tea it is, for me. As for what else we have for breakfast; the main course may change, but prefacing it is always a plate of fruit. Sometimes oranges, sometimes melons, and always bananas accompanying them.

This morning breakfast waited while we went out with Jackie and Jillie for a hike through the ravine. Once again we're into an extremely hot and humid day. When Irving brought in the morning paper before we left he looked as usual at the weather reports. Hard to believe, but British Columbia, that always-moderate-temperatured province of Canada, is sharing the U.S.Coastal heat stubbornly wedged over a large geographic area encompassing B.C., Alberta and Saskatchewan as well as Washington State, California and a few others.

We think it's hot when the thermometer reads 30C, but today Vancouver has 40C, just so hard to fathom, much harder to imagine how to cope with that temperature. And some parts of B.C. in the interior are even more challenged; 47C, just mind-boggling. We were at Lilooet many years ago, at least close to it, same time of year and we had gone alpine camping. Climbed to a summit where we stayed overnight, hearing a glacier below drip-dripping into an alpine lake below. During the day we left our tent and went exploring, found what was left of winter snow still melting, covered with a pink fungus. It wasn't warm then, though the afternoon sun did its best. We'll hear all about today's weather from our son, but he always minimizes physical discomfort through his perpetual optimistic outlook.

As for us, hiking through the forest this morning the air was dense and humid, the sun penetratingly and acutely hot. As always happens when trekking through forest trails you come across areas that are hotter and others cooler; brief but notable. Despite the heat Jackie and Jillie weren't interested in having any water. Since we've been taking treats along with us on our daily hikes, they've been pestering us non-stop to empty the little bags of treats into their waiting maws.

We happened across an old acquaintance with his hound that we haven't seen in about a year. Just about everyone's sole topic of conversation is COVID and vaccines. Along came a young boy with a beautiful Vizsla, not yet out of puppyhood, anxious to find playmates. Jackie and Jillie are no other dogs' playmates. They know how to play with one another, but another dog? heaven forfend. If another dog is insistent they want to play Jackie and Jillie beg to be lifted up. On the other hand, neither was the wire-haired pointer interested in playing with the puppy. The youngster was a delight to watch in his graceful movement and his delirious happiness with life's adventures.

Back at home again, Jackie and Jillie took possession of the porch, persuading the squirrels assembled there that they'd do well to scatter, and the squirrels obliged. They know the drill; as soon as our two pups enter the house, the coast is clear once again and the squirrels return.

When we were first exposed to the heat this morning feeling just like a blast-furnace come to think of it, exiting the house with Jackie and Jillie into the backyard, an overheated wind swirling everything about in the garden, we just did a mental shrug in acknowledgement that this would be a hot day. Nothing like what the U.S. South-West is experiencing mind, but hot enough, and humid following several days and nights of relentless rain.

We were in the shower when it occurred to us this was a perfect morning to reverse our usual routine, and head out to the ravine before breakfast. Jackie and Jillie certainly didn't mind. They'd been eager to snap up bits of Cheddar cheese while I was setting the table for breakfast, so they weren't exactly starving. And Irving took along some treats for them to dole out minimally. And water as well.

As things turned out they were ecstatic about the treats, faux 'bacon' cookies, but totally disinterested in the water offerings despite the heat and the long trek we took this morning. They're small, though black attracts the sun, and the forest interior gave them ample protection from getting over-heated. We did come across a woman walking two large black-coated dogs, one a Bernese, the other a part-Bernese and smaller and they looked miserable as they ambled along the trail. 

At one juncture on the main trail, our boots crunching the soil underfoot though it was still sodden from yesterday's and last-night's rain, I saw a movement close by our booted feet but wasn't certain. Looking a little closer I realized it was a tiny black toad, about the same colour as the rain-darkened trail itself and in all likelihood, its movement had prevented it from being crushed. Had that happened we would have been devastated at the realization that we'd inadvertently killed the little creature. Jackie and Jillie took no notice of the little fellow whatever.

Surprisingly, we saw few others out. At the last bridge we cross before beginning the ascent of the long hill to attain street level, we came across one of our long-time neighbours who lives near the foot of the street. (We live about mid-way on the street, where it takes a curve.) She was just finishing up her morning T'ai Chi. Since we hadn't seen her in a while there was a lot to talk about and we were some while standing there until finally someone else came along and we parted company.

Up on the heights leading to the street, shrub-size Elderberries are in bloom. They're really fast-growing trees/shrubs. Down by the creek, close to where we had begun our ascent where the first bridge we encounter on the left-side trail sits, they're in tree shape. In 19th century Ontario and elsewhere in the country where Elderberry grows, people often made wine from the fruit; there are mentions of it in writings of the period.

She came along in her own good time. It was well before midnight this time, and teeming rain. And it rained all night and well into the morning. But Mamma raccoon was there on the porch. Eventually joined by her babies, one after the other settled down beside her to paw up peanuts. A few more restless jockeyed themselves around to do a little bit of familiarizing themselves with this strange new place so unlike the forest. When they arrive, they pass between the balustrades of the porch surround, entering under the old wrought-iron bench. One spurns this easy way, and instead clambers onto the bench and sits there momentarily glancing down at Mamma and siblings. Then hesitantly tries several times to muster the courage to drop below to join them. Eventually he does but on the way to doing so it's evident that he's cautiously insecure.

This time around I was determined to come away with some evidence of their presence. I wanted to send a photograph along to our granddaughter. My little Canon failed in its mission two nights before; all I came away with was black frames. So I hauled out the Nikon and it performed somewhat better. I was at least able to come away with a semblance of a photograph; not clearly distinct, but notionally sufficient.

Whaaaat!! Just a half-cookie apiece?

The following day was replete with ongoing rain. Although the high temperature got up only to 23C, the atmosphere was sodden. Whenever the rain seemed to relent, it would change its mind and open up the floodgates again. Irving had gone out after breakfast to give the porch a good scrub-down. It looked pretty unkempt. We keep sweeping it but in view of the constant outlays of edible treats for local wildlife, it gathers detritus like nobody's business. So he took out the seldom-used leaf-blower to suck up bits of detritus that the broom leaves behind, and he used soapy water to scrub down the bricks. When he was finished out came the peanuts again. And along came the squirrels. And suddenly it once again resembled a pigsty.

In the afternoon a lull appeared and we decided to make a sprint for the ravine, tucking little raincoats for Jackie and Jillie into the capacious pockets of our own rainjackets. Everything was thoroughly drenched. There was an aluminum-coloured sky with streaks of dark clouds threatening another downpour. The forest was dripping with rain, the creek flush with the rushing, muddy flow downstream.

On the upper main trail, rainpuddles gave ample evidence that the forest had absorbed as much of the rain as it was able to manage. Although we took a shorter circuit than usual to avoid getting caught out in another vigorous downpour, we did take a side trail that led alongside the creek and on its banks enjoyed the sight of Black-eyed Susans in bloom, earlier than we can ever recall. Lots of daisies still in bloom, and fleabane.

 

Home again, the garden glowed with a deep green glaze of rain highlighting colour variations, immensely pleasing to the eye. With such an abundance of rain the garden has two choices; roots of tender plants can drown and rot, or wallow in the excess moisture and thrive. Some of our garden pots may lost a few of their inhabitants, but the balance will do just fine.

 

We thought we might see the mamma raccoon with her five adorable little kits last night when we hauled ourselves up to bed after midnight. No little troop presented itself on the porch, though. But there was a good big mound of peanuts awaiting their arrival. In the meantime, there was the small raccoon that comes around regularly, daintily feeding himself pawfuls of peanuts and we're always glad to see him. Jackie and Jillie don't bother barking at him any longer, he's such a familiar presence to them.

No peanuts were left on the porch by the time we descended the stairs opposite the front door in the morning, and we assumed mamma had been around with her babies. We could see several squirrels patiently waiting for their morning treats and they set right to it once Irving replenished the spent offerings. 

I've just given up entirely trying to persuade him that it is completely unnecessary to feed the wildlife at this time of year. He actually feels responsible to continue feeding them. Doing so satisfies something deep within. So there's just no point in continuing to badger him about it. Feed them he must and feed them he will. When we're out in the garden puttering about they feel confident enough in our presence to simply ignore us and get on with the important work of depleting the peanut mound.

On those occasions when Jackie and Jillie are out with us, the squirrels make themselves scarce. They know the difference between our two little dogs barking themselves silly inside the house watching the squirrels and chipmunks through the glass-fronted door, and their being on the loose outside the house indignant over the presence of wildlife on their porch.

Today was baking morning. I had decided to bake some butter tarts. My husband reminded me that he likes the tarts still runny. I had intended to bake them until there was some jiggle left in them, but as things turned out, failed to. On the positive side, the tart crust is firmer as well when the interior is baked solid. He'll overlook that they're firm, he always does.

I suggested it might be a good idea to barbecue the turkey breast (deboned, skinned) I planned to cut up into a cauliflower/tomato/lettuce/snap bean salad for dinner tonight. So that's just what he did, he smoked the breast with hickory, off-flame. The end result should be interesting.

It's turned out to be a cool, overcast day, one that promises rain, but fails to deliver. Cool and dry and warm enough to enjoy a long, leisurely stroll through forest trails with Jackie and Jillie. As we entered the ravine, one of our hiking friends just exiting with her three dogs, told us we could expect mosquitoes; 'they're back!', she told us, with a grimace. So I expected that we'd be bothered by the new wave of smaller, black mosquitoes, elusive and nasty, unlike the earlier wave of larger, clumsier, swattable mosquitoes.

For the most part for the length of our hike, none appeared. Until we stopped too long to talk with someone in one area of the main trail where we often come across them. And though they weren't numerous they were annoying, particularly around our unprotected back-of-neck area. Otherwise, the hike couldn't have been more pleasant; bracingly cool, so much so there was no interest evinced by the puppies in having a drink. Doggy biscuits, now that's another thing altogether...

Just as we were preparing to tuck the day under wraps for the night, making our way upstairs to bed, Jackie and Jillie were distracted by something/someone outside on the porch and began growling and barking. We shushed them and watched as a large raccoon -- not the younger male raccoon we're more familiar with -- began settling herself comfortably on the porch amidst the last pile of peanuts that Irving put out for the night.

How did we know she was a she? Well, it took but a few minutes and then a very small raccoon appeared on the porch rail and seemed to be trying to climb the brick pillar the rail is attached to. Their movements are fluid and graceful, but that of a baby tends to be somewhat awkward and clumsy reflecting curiosity and adventurism. So, we thought, ha! a Mama and her kit.

How wrong we were. Not 'a' kit at all. Soon another appeared and another, both new appearances settling down on the porch floor beside their mother, all delicately handling peanuts and nibbling them. Three kits? Actually, no. Another two appeared through the balustrades and five kits and a large Mama had disposed themselves in a little feeding frenzy. 

We shooed Jackie and Jillie upstairs, and they watched us from the landing upstairs as we watched mesmerized while the little tableau played out before us. I had grabbed my camera and was hoping there might be enough light to photograph the scene, however dimly. I was disappointed today to discover all I got was black frames, nothing distinguishable at all. A short video I had also taken came out dark and it was difficult to discern any detail, but there were hints of movement and a faintly recognizable result.

 

Needless to say, this morning there was nothing left of an edible nature on the porch. But the goodies were soon replenished and the usual suspects -- black, red and grey squirrels and chipmunks popped up; several had been waiting for us to dispense the peanuts and they were soon rewarded. That 50-pound bag won't last very long, that much is evident.

After breakfast Irving went out to begin spreading more garden soil on the lawn in an ongoing effort to rehabilitate the grass. When I finally had the opportunity I went out to join him and it was hot directly in the sun. Jackie and Jillie, eager to be outside with us soon began to seek shade and were increasingly restless. I'd gone out to begin paring back the canes on one of our oldest and largest rose shrubs that had completed their June bloom. It took quite a while, and soon two huge compost bags were full. After sweeping up, we felt it was time for a ravine hike.

Jackie and Jillie enjoy their little conceit that we take our cue from them with respect to when to commit to an hour and more to the forest trails, but they're not too far wrong. Hot it is again, today, and humid, but no rain in the forecast. There are ferocious wind gusts that sent trees dancing and clacking at the canopy level in the forest. The cooling wind was strong enough to make its way through the forest interior and we were grateful for that.

The atmosphere that was so overwhelmingly hot (though just 26C at street level became breezily comfortable while we strode through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie.