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.