We discovered last night that our little family troop of raccoons arrive on our porch more than once during the evening hours. We're beginning to notice the difference in their sizes, the kits now approaching juvenile proportions and so it makes sense that they're eating more and wanting to eat more. In between visits Irving puts out new offerings. We've got to take care that Jackie and Jillie know they're not to bark, but occasionally they can't temper their behaviour and rush to the door to look out at the appealing little faces and bark their censure of their presence.

The mother raccoon, aware of the impermeable shield between them and her kits pays little attention and just continues eating, while the kits, alarmed, quickly exit the porch, only to return a few seconds later, reassured that their mother is calm, so it's safe for them to keep on feasting. We shoo Jackie and Jillie up to bed, but ourselves stand for awhile fascinated at the little jaws working up and down, paws extending and opposable 'hands' scooping up peanuts.

In the late afternoon today Irving alerted me to the presence of a different little animal in the bestiary of creatures that visit us. At first I thought he said 'rabbit', but what he said was 'rat'. It was a little brown rat. About the same colour as the rabbit who is brown-grey, actually. We've seen him before. And, like the skunk and the rabbit, he's very shy, inclined to instantly disappear at the first hint of detection, though I thought I was being very careful and quiet. His back was to me so he couldn't have seen any movement from me. I thought.

Undoubtedly his supply of handouts had diminished greatly when we stopped using the backyard composters in favour of putting all of our compost into the compost bins provided by the municipality for weekly pick-up. It's where the raccoons used to traipse over to at night, as well. So Irving feels a kind of responsibility to ensure they don't all starve...

The garden looks pretty unkempt, and many of the flowering plants look as though they're ready to pack it in for another summer. We've tried to keep them well hydrated, but the heat is hard on them, too. And it's the heat and high humidity that has kept me out of the garden instead of allowing me to get out and do all the little garden chores, primarily cutting back and trimming at this time of year, everything from shrubs and trees to perennials. But to get out in 30+C sunny weather is courting heatstroke, so I've got to wait until a cooling trend arrives. It's even hotter in Montreal; the temperature soared to 35C there yesterday.

So we're committed to going out to the ravine for our daily hikes with Jackie and Jillie in the early morning hours, and will continue that until it becomes cooler. This morning was actually not quite as humid as the previous days and nor was it as hot, with a lovely cooling breeze prevailing. Not once did Jackie and Jillie ask for a drink, nor were they inclined to drink when one was proffered. On the other hand, they were given ripe berries from the side of the trails and a few apples to share, Irving biting off little pieces for them as we went along, so moisture seemed not to be a problem.

We saw our first woolly bear caterpillar this season, not ambling along on the ground as usual, but perched on a leaf in the meadow, as we were on our way to exiting the forest. In the meadow, the purple loosestrife, black-eyed Susans, Evening primrose and compass plants are beginning to look fairly exhausted. Few daisies and Queen Anne's lace are left. As the season ages, so does their appearance. We were, though, surprised to see a fresh new bloom on a thimbleberry shrub.

By the time we returned home after an hour-and-a-half manoeuvering through the forest trails, we felt pretty hot and tired, so a shower was welcome. And so was breakfast, for all of us. A chance to just sit about, look at the newspapers, and relax. And then, joy, began the house-cleaning, since Monday is reserved for that hours-long chore. Which Jackie and Jillie don't the least bit mind, mostly because they use that time to refresh themselves; as in napping interminably with the occasional out-in-the-backyard break.