Our surprise last night was not that the raccoon family of six came around since we've become accustomed to their appearances nightly for their snacks on the porch, but the fact that this time there were six kits, not five. One kit nominally smaller than the other five, but part of their pack last night. Our speculation was boundless. Whose baby was it? Did our momma raccoon adopt a (heaven forbid) orphan? Just babysitting? We do see unfamiliar raccoons around sometimes; several nights back before the family appeared it was two really large raccoons amicably sharing the porch.

Well, life is full of mysteries. One confronted us early this morning when we set out pre-breakfast on yet another hot and humid day, hoping to beat the worst of the heat by getting out early. In this heat the possibility of thunderstorms didn't much faze us and in any event, although there were periods of overcast when the sun withdrew in kind consideration of its effect on heat-suffering humanity, no pop-up thunderstorms eventuated.

There had been overnight rain though, and all the vegetation held rain droplets and shimmered in the hazy heat attesting to rain we hadn't been aware of. Our attention was drawn again to the growing pile of apples that a neighbour is once again dumping into a ravine hillside. He's done that the last few years, but last year he hadn't. So now he's back to doing it again. The reason, we were told, when we suggested they might offer the apples to neighbours or take them along to the Ottawa Food Bank for distribution to needy families, was that the apples were too sour.

This morning Irving gingerly climbed down the slope a bit to retrieve one of the apples. It looked and smelled like a Mackintosh. And when we taste-tested it, it was perfectly ripe, juicy and sweet. Not wonderful, but pretty good. Good enough for hand-eating, good enough for apple pie, applesauce, or whatever. It's wonderful to live in a country where food is inexpensive and there is never any shortage. It does give a sense of unease, regardless, to see perfectly good food wasted.

As we meandered our way through the forest trails, Irving was busy picking berries here and there alongside the trails. Although the raspberries are finished, blackberries and thimbleberries are still ripening. And they're irresistible. Every time Irving stops by the trail to pick a handful of berries Jackie and Jillie are up front and centre. For Jackie the thimbleberries, for Jillie the blackberries. He won't eat blackberries and Jillie favours them. Go figure.

Both appreciate it when Irving plucks an apple from one of the wild apple trees. Their product is uneven; some produce small green sour-tasting apples that are fairly dry, and others juicier, sweet apples, and by now we know which tree's offering we prefer and which we prefer to bypass. The abundance of wild-growing berries and apples in the forest is amazing.

We came across some friends walking their dogs through the trails and there's never a dearth of topics waiting to be discussed. All the dogs are really patient about these stops, stoically awaiting the action of their humans that will resume their forays through the trails. The large dogs, and dogs like Huskies bred to colder climes really do suffer in this heat. 

We were in no hurry to leave the forest and decided to delay our arrival home to shower and have breakfast by taking a detour toward the pollinator meadow. It's ultra-calming to walk among the wildflowers, and our good fortune that we're not allergic to ragweed and goldenrod, since they both grow lavishly among the daisies, Queen Anne's lace, purple loosestrife, Black-eyed Susans and others, among them.