It doesn't take long after nightfall before they begin to arrive, singly, in pairs, in little family groups. We've no idea how many in total, but hazard a dozen, from kits to juveniles to adults. They're invariably well-behaved and confident. They make themselves comfortable for as long as they intend to stay. And they arrive in succession. It almost seems as though they wait politely until one group leaves before ascending the porch and beginning their own repast. 

 

 

I was a little surprised yesterday afternoon when I saw the usually belligerent little black squirrel with the red-enhanced tail who always picks fights with other black squirrels, calmly accept the presence of a little chipmunk, daintily selecting peanuts in close proximity to one another. The chipmunks are usually wary of the presence of squirrels, but not this time. The squirrels too, like the raccoons, often arrive in pairs, and there are times when four of them accommodate one another's presence.

It's less frequently that we see grey squirrels and they tend to be loners. And though we see small red squirrels fairly often, they too don't seem to wish to tolerate the close presence of any others, either red, grey or black. They're all a little different. 

 

We used to think of the crows as being flighty, and they are; the least bit of movement they detect will see them lifting off and we attribute that to the well-enough-known fact that most people don't like these very intelligent birds about. The song sparrows come around very often, but we haven't heard them sing all summer, and now they're once again beginning to trill their peerless songs as though welcoming fall. Yesterday a pair of bluejays came along; bluejays love peanuts. As flighty as the crows are, bluejays are even more susceptible to reacting when they feel insecure, unlike the song sparrows and the cardinals.

 

Tomorrow is the first day of October, and it's getting progressively colder. This morning at 7:00 Irving put on the gas fireplace to warm up the family room adjacent the kitchen and breakfast rooms. We left it on for its comforting warmth throughout breakfast, until the warmth of the sun began to penetrate the stained glass windows and the house began to feel more comfortable.

Irving spent hours downstairs in his workshop, assembling a new door to hold a stained glass insert. He's toying with plans for the insert design and is thinking of two roundels, one depicting a stream with fish and a bear fishing them. Another would be an alpine landscape with a mountain goat. Sounds a little fussy and complicated, he may change his mind. I was involved in more mundane things, doing the laundry.

 

By mid-afternoon Jackie and Jillie were getting fairly antsy despite my taking them out repeatedly to the backyard where they burst out the sliding doors, dash down the stairs of the deck, and through to the back fence behind the garden sheds, racing after squirrels and chipmunks. It's my opportunity to conduct some assessment on what next to do in my ongoing garden fall clean-up sessions. We used to do them in one fell swoop, but that was back then; it's just too difficult, time-consuming and exhausting.

 

No need for anything to be worn over their haircoats today, not with that full-out sun, though we wore light jackets in view of the wind and the always-cooler atmosphere prevailing in the forest. We're seeing more fungi now that we're seeing fewer wildflowers. In their own way, mushrooms are just about as interesting in their variety of colour and shapes as are flowers.

 

When we were down by the creek before finishing up our extended trail loop this afternoon we were pleased to see a number of little goldfish swimming about. They hadn't all been picked off after all by the passing great blue heron, or the little boys intent on gathering them up for aquariums. I think by now there is quite a number of small-fry in any event, harder to see, and black, not orange, the colour that gives their presence away. 

 

While we were down at the creek there was a sudden loud sound, as though someone nearby was starting up a crochety old gas-powered chainsaw. The loud, prolonged ripping sound, Irving pointed out to me, though it had a mechanical creak to it, was in fact the sound of a large tree cracking off and falling...

During the hottest summer days Mohindar's air conditioning system suddenly failed. All he had to do was get it replaced. But these are unusual times. It seems all the local companies that specialize in ordering and installing furnaces and air conditioners have been extraordinarily busy. The units are on back order and there are long wait times for them to arrive from the manufacturers and distributors. There's a worldwide shortage of shipping containers and items coming from abroad take much more time for delivery.

That's apart from the fact that there is also a shortage of transport drivers to deliver these household consumer products. And the fact that companies that do the installation are all booked up, leading to long wait-times. By the time Mohindar's new replacement air conditioner was finally installed, the hot summer months had gone. Now we're seriously in fall, and there's no need for the air conditioner.

In fact, it's furnace time, with the night-time temperatures dipping to 6C. Irving was anxious, after having cleaned the furnace, replaced the filter and setting the furnace to come on, to see whether it actually would. It's a golden-oldie, the furnace that was installed with the newly-built house 30-some-odd years ago. Ours appears to be the only house on the street where the furnace hasn't been replaced. We were informed years ago by a furnace maintenance man that the model we had had a furnace box that was indestructible. But of course, nothing is, and each winter we wait with bated breath until it actually performs.

On the street behind us there has been the constant commotion of heavy machinery for almost two weeks. It's unsettling and annoying. An inground swimming pool is being installed in a backyard up two houses over behind the one directly backing on ours. Usually, it doesn't take that long for these things to be completed. And the family that ordered the pool installation likely signed a contract either toward the end of last summer or this spring. The installation contractor like all home-improvement/maintenance contractors so busy with a multitude of jobs awaiting completion, it takes forever to get them started and completed. Likely that family anticipated having use of the pool this past summer; now they can re-adjust their expectation to next summer.

It is undeniably cool out. Rain of some intensity occurring almost daily. And plenty of wind to accompany it. So it really is fall. Not that fall doesn't come with its own unique attractions. It's cool, after all, not cold. Brisk walks in this kind of weather are always enjoyable. The air is fresh and clean, striding about feels really good to your limbs and lungs. The gradual transition in tree foliage from bright green to shades of gold, umber and red are eye-grabbing. 

You shrug on light jackets and tuck gloves into your pockets. And hope the rain will hold off while you're out. And finally you return home exercised and complacent about life in general, the concerns troubling you when you set off having been placed in perspective while you were in the walking mood and mode. And you anticipate that evening meal consisting of the kind of cool weather 'comfort food' that is enjoyable and completes the relaxation cycle.

 

For us last night it was a Shepherd's pie and brussel sprouts. It was comprised of a melange of vegetables along with the ground beef; garlic cloves, onion, celery, chopped green onion, mushrooms, a layer of frozen green peas, and the gravied beef spooned into a casserole, with mashed potatoes well peppered, the potatoes cooked with garlic clove and onion then mashed together. Herbs and spices made it flavourful, One of Irving's favourites. Jackie and Jillie also aren't averse to enjoying a tiny bowl of the beef of the filling. 

 

It was a cool, overcast 12C when we went off to the ravine, following Jackie and Jillie today. Like us, they were geared for the cooler weather in little tee-shirts. The bright white of their shirts glowed against the dark shades of the forest floor as they dashed about here and there. Not much in the way of wildflowers to be seen any longer. They lingered as long as they could; their stalks dark and brittle now, their flowers dried, many of them becoming those little prickle-bombs that end up in dogs' haircoats.

In exchange nature gives us fungi. Shorter days, earlier dusk and longer nights alongside rain events are all the encouragement that fungi needs to begin popping out of the soil. Everything now from fly agaric to dogvomitslime mushrooms. Not amply sprinkled about  the forest floor, just beginning to make their presence evident on their way to becoming ubiquitous. At least until frost begins to set in.

T

I had planned on making a cheese quiche for dinner last night. Irving loves eggs and we both enjoy cheese, and they make a perfect combination. I planned to chop lots of green onion and slivers of colourful baby bell pepper into it and the very thought of it was so pleasing -- to me. For some unknown reason Irving is lukewarm on quiche and wasn't thrilled. So I was spared the happy task of producing a pie dough and the filling for a quiche.

It had been a busy day anyway, house-cleaning day always is. And then we had a leisurely tramp through the ravine with Jackie and Jillie afterward. So we decided we'd eat light instead. Since it was also a cool early-fall day, and pretty wet beside, I thought having something warm like the quiche would be appropriate. As things turned out, we had vegetables, beginning with corn-on-the-cob which was all right, but nothing spectacular. Then a plate with more vegetables, sprats, deviled eggs for Irving and avocado for me. Fresh sliced pears for dessert filled out the bill. It was fine.

Today has been another busy day. Every day is busy and there's no complaints about that, none whatever. There's always so much to do, we have so many choices apart from the obligations it's pretty tough to be bored. I sometimes respond to poll notices delivered by email from Angus Reid. A few days back there was one I was interested in participating in. I always refuse the commercial ones. This one was directed to older people, and it was part of a project run out of University of Alberta.

A study to try to get a picture of how older Canadians are managing during this pandemic. The questions were many and most canted sympathetically to the difficulties the older generation is popularly assumed to face. The questions, in fact, posed a wide spectrum of issues from affordability of basic services and necessities of life to mental health issues and the state of the surveyed's peace of mind and appreciation of their lives. I had the impression that going into the study the researchers assumed that most of their subjects would be unhappy, miserable older people for whom life is a dreadful strain with few rewards.

It took me no time at all to get through the questions; on the allotted scales my responses were always 'positive' in that I am happy with our lives, we're comfortably well off, have no concerns over managing, don't feel isolated and unappreciated, and on and on. At the same time I realize how fortunate we are to begin with, that we've shared a pleasurable, rewarding life together and our 66 years of marriage have been as perfect as anyone has a right to expect. Still, some of the questions such as asking 'how often do you feel a sense of impending disaster, a foreboding'...seemed a little leading and dire as though prompting people to divulge their inner misery...

We were anything but miserable setting off this afternoon for our usual turn on the forest trails with our puppies, who are always ready, willing and eager to get about in the ravine. We noticed that for the past week we've seen a number of woolly bear caterpillars. It's their alternate time of year, besides spring, when they manifest their presence; for now they're looking to cocoon up somewhere for the winter. When we were children we were fascinated by them, and I guess we still are -- not children of course, but interested in the little creatures in their seasonal appearance.

We came across a friend we've known for some years with her little apricot poodle, and walked together for awhile. Irving in particular enjoys shmoozing with people on any occasions. At one juncture she pointed out to us, barely visible in the interior of the forest, an overgrown and collapsed mushroom on the forest floor. I ducked into the interior and it was, or had been a colossal mushroom, far beyond anything in size I'd ever seen before. It had collapsed, its gills visible through the widening cracks of its large fleshy cap. Seeing it left me wishing we'd noticed it earlier, when it was still intact.

When we returned home it was time for us to bid adieu, darlings, to Jackie and Jillie. They stood in the dining room door, heads poking out, watching us down the hall in the laundry room preparing to leave the house. Jillie was mute and miserable looking, Jackie was emitting faint little plaints, pleading with us not to abandon them. We told them to look after one another, and we'd soon return.

 

For the past week -- wait, it's been longer than that -- each time I open my computer there's that little message awaiting me. Abject apology. From Mozilla. That once again Firefox has crashed. It has been stubborn, yes indeed, unwilling to follow orders as when I hit the close [x] button and there's no response. And slow -- oh slow -- to respond, yes. But then, so too has my email program, Microsoft's Windows live mail, been daftly puzzling, balky, unpredictable and given to hysterics.

I oblige Mozilla with a short explanation which they require evidently to make an effort to 'solve the problem'. They haven't yet. That message keeps appearing. I am still able to get around the difficulties by mustering patience enabling me to get the work done I'm focused on. It is beyond irritating, it most certainly is. And I suspect it's my precious old computer that may be at fault. Tired and wanting to rest, aggravated by being pressed into duty too often.

Well, Irving has surrounded himself with his stained glass portfolio, full of drawings, trying to inspire  himself with a subject epiphany; landscape, seasonal, tropical, local, focus on wildlife, birds, whatever. It will eventually come to him and  he will sketch something out, work with it, finalize it and be satisfied that he has produced a pattern he can work with. At which time it will be repeated in the size it is meant to be, the pieces scissored like a jig-saw puzzle to serve as  his guide in cutting the coloured glass to be fitted into an insert for the door he intends to produce.

Ah, the door. He decided late this afternoon after our ravine walk, to take down the existing door preparatory to producing its replacement. The door he will build will be absent an interior, it will be a door frame to be installed in place of the one taken down to the basement from the second floor of the house. That was a heavy door we both managed to grapple, each of us at one end, down two flights of stairs. It's a start.

When we were out today in the ravine, it was quite cool, quite the fall day. The temperature is set to dip to 8C tonight, but it rose to a magnificent 16C this afternoon under a heavily clouded sky that now and again began dripping. The rain of this early morning made for a sodden landscape, already well irrigated by days of rain, interrupted by a day of sun and wind yesterday. Jackie and Jillie are becoming a little more resigned to having to venture out into wet, wet grass. They don't mind the wet atmosphere in the forest, only in the garden.

In the garden the annuals look really peaked. On Saturday I had to carefully separate and remove some of the well-rooted but dying plants, totally exhausted from their summer and early fall flowering. At this time of year near-memory of early spring seems to pop into your mind. The summer months just sped by and now they're gone. You'd think we'd be used to it, resigned to the change in seasons, but we never are, really.

Still, there are many plants left in the garden and the garden pots looking fairly hale, and they're all the more appreciated for that. They too worked overtime for months and yet still produce the beauty we so much admired all season. As for the forest and its abundance of seasonal wildflowers, those that had started their bloom in midsummer and embroidered the forest floor for so many months have completely dried up, their stalks dark with decay, their blooms no longer bright sparks of colour amongst the prevailing greens. But the later-blooming of the fall asters remain in full display.

We had a surprise encounter with an old friend whom we haven't seen in some time. He had lost the second of his two little terriers some months back, so hadn't the heart to continue his usual treks through the forest trails. We'd seen his mother a few times with her own little fellow, and she told us her son and  his partner were considering adopting another dog, eventually.

And today we saw that other dog, almost a year old, his name is Reno and he looks somewhat like a small muscular golden retriever. They had just picked him up yesterday at the baggage department at the airport. He had been flown in by a rescue group, from Egypt. An active little fellow, not too familiar with being leashed, wanting to rush about everywhere, leaping up at us, expressing his delight in everything. 

Jackie and Jillie were very courteous for a change, welcoming the new arrival. Still, a little surprising, since there are so many dogs of all sizes, breeds, ages right here gathered from people no longer committed to their care. We found it strange that their choice was a geographically exotic one. Not that it wasn't a dog in need of affection and care and security. They'll be happy together.

There is always so much to do in a household, to keep it running. Normal  household things, and of course maintenance that never ends. Things that go awry with normal wear and tear, needing to be fixed or replaced. Cleaning, laundry, food shopping, exterior care and gardening; whatever it is it becomes routine and a weekly schedule more or less takes care of everything. It all consumes time and energy, leaving just enough of both over to tuck into the day an opportunity for recreation. And vitally, reading. And looking after two little puppies with all that entails (not the least bit punny:).

But Irving is restless. He's always been curious about things, always wanted to go somewhere, see things, do things. Since the pandemic we've gone nowhere. So there's that gap in our lives, shared by people the world over. The next best thing to occupying his attention and energies is producing something, having a project that can be planned for, worked on and carefully tended to. When he first retired he took up oil painting and did it on a rather grand scale.

When we moved to our current house thirty years ago, he saw it as one huge project. As he had the two earlier houses we owned and lived in. All ended up bearing his stamp of aesthetic. This current house gave him greater scope to explore his penchant for building, everything from furniture pieces to altering the original interior, meant to be open flowing spaces, to distinctly singular spaces, closing them all in. And when he turned his attention to the house exterior, excavating the ground to build garden infrastructure that too was a project, one that took an entire spring and part of a summer.

After all these years you'd think he would slow down and take a break, but no. Yesterday afternoon he went out then  returned with some lumber. He's decided to concentrate on producing two stained glass doors. Which means he has to build the doors as frames to hold stained glass inserts. That done, he'll design a pattern, then begin producing the stained glass to eventually insert into the frame, and finally hang the door. We've got such doors throughout the house, but there are two plain doors upstairs that he plans to replace. He's happiest when he's busy creating something.

Today he was busy with other things. Finally, the lawn has dried, the sun is out, it's a cool, windy day. Yesterday afternoon while he was out getting his lumber, I was out continuing my initial garden clean-up anticipating putting the garden beds and borders to sleep for the winter months. There's a lot to be done and it can only be done incrementally. Today Irving mowed the lawns, front and back of the house, and then we went out with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon tramp through the forest.

A surprisingly windy day, and cool at 17C, with the sun on occasional display, but more overcast than not. The forest too is drying out from its series of rainy days. The forest leaf mass is a wide screen of green, where in weeks to come it will become intermittently tinged with other colours like gold, and burnt umber and reds along with the green. A display that is utterly eye-dazzling. But not yet.

There is only the occasional sight of an early-turning maple, poplar, birch, sumac. But all the signs are there. Autumn takes its time; it is, at this point, more evident in fragrance than in its optics. We can smell it in the air. We can feel it in the wind and in the chill air. Vegetation on the forest floor looks tired and spent, entirely prepared to take its leave for the present, to rest over winter and return in good time when spring returns. We'll be waiting.

At least there's no need to water the gardens. We've had a generosity of rainfall this past week, enough to do us for a while. The trails in the ravine are still drenched, though the puddles have been absorbed. And we woke to sunshine that was determined not to allow any clouds entry to the sky today. A full day of bright, warm sun to counteract the coolish 19C that prevails today. No complaints, it's just too perfect to find fault with.

It's the season to begin thinking of oncoming winter. Irving went downstairs to clean out the furnace and put in a fresh filter. Furnace and filter both clean before replacement. He earlier changed over from warm weather to cool weather garments for himself. And I did the same thing myself, packing away light tops in a large six-board chest he had made aeons ago. He's made quite a bit of furniture pieces in our home. As has our younger son who is a meticulous furniture-maker for a scientist.

So when that was done out we went to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie, anxious as usual to be off and knowing all the signals of imminent departure long before we're aware that there are any signals to interpret. Although we enjoyed our ravine circuits the last few days in light pattering rain, it's good to be out when the sun is also making its appearance, all the more so when the atmosphere has turned cool and a bracing breeze is present. 

For such an exceptionally beautiful day we saw very few other people out and about. When we first entered the ravine we did see a young family, parents and a little boy about six and his sister, likely four years of age. We spoke briefly recommending direction to them and off we went. Because it was such a lovely day, it's a bit of a mystery that there were so few people and dogs out. All too often on a Saturday that's the formula; shopping expeditions rank higher than forest excursions. Alternately there are Saturdays when the trails seem overused.

In some areas the bracken on the forest floor is being absorbed, foliage turning yellow and disappearing, while in others the vegetation remains crowded; all dependent on the type of forest plants that are being grown in any area; where conifers dominate the soil tends to be acid, inviting the presence of acid-tolerant plants and vice-versa.

Of the few dogs we did come across, there was a female standard poodle, black like Jackie and Jillie, who remembers Irving and behaves very affectionately toward him, as the giver of handouts. She, like so many of her breed, is quiet and well-behaved leading us to compare her carriage and behaviour with that of Jackie and Jillie -- altogether different. They're bumptious little clowns.

 We discovered that the wasp nest we've seen dangling from the end of a branch for months with its busy traffic of wasps in and out, is no more. I had an intuition we might find that to be si, as we approached the area where it hung, that the latest rainstorms and accompanying high winds might have produced that effect. It lies now, no longer occupied but for unsalvageable wasp larvae one would imagine, nestled where it fell onto a layer of drying grasses on the forest floor under the tree that held it.

And that is the area where we also noted a number of fungi colonies, mushrooms of a type we don't recall seeing before, in appearance precisely what egg yolks look like, glistening  yellow, perfectly round and gelatinous looking. One group after another. Not unexpected, given the amount of rain we've had lately and now that fall has arrived.

As we concluded our circuit long from our original ravine entrance, but approaching it from an alternate direction, there was that same family again with the two young children, the little boy excitedly informing us that he'd seen a snake. His little sister smiled shyly. It's hard to think of anything much better parents can do for their children than introduce them to nature in all its variables so that as adults they can be comfortable in natural surroundings.

For the most part we don't tend to hang around the front door at night to see who might be coming by. It's when Jackie and Jillie raise their frantic barking alarm that we take a stroll over to the door to see who's there. And to quiet them down and lead them away so whoever is there can nibble away in peace and quiet. When this happened early in the evening last night there were four good-sized raccoons ensconced on the porch undeterred by the alarm and calmly munching the offerings. They were assembled there comfortable in one another's presence, so we could assume them to be sibling juveniles.

In one sense, it's nice to see them so comfortably gorging themselves, on the porch. On the other we really want to know that they're still cautious, remaining vigilant over the possible presence of any threats. Truth to tell, it's hard to imagine any threats to a raccoon, much less a passel of them. They can be pretty fierce in their physical defence and dogs do well not to challenge them. And from what we've seen of them in any event, there are times when they do become alarmed and they're adept at a quick-vanishing act when uncertain.

We too know what comfort feels like, and how nasty it is when we're reminded that outside influences are able to reach into our inner peace. Like early this morning, comfortable in bed, struggling with the idea of rising to meet the day head on, yet preferring to continue snuggling under the covers, me dozing, the puppies likewise and Irving reading by the ample light provided by sunrays streaming through the bedroom window. And then, the telephone. An offshore call, of course. Again. 

So, up and at 'em. Consultation resulted in an agreement to continue with comfort food -- looking ahead to meal preparation for dinner, long before breakfast has been digested. Dessert is up to my own discretion and I decided to bake a vanilla sheet cake with white chocolate chips sprinkled in the batter, then glazed with a blackberry sauce. For the main course it'll be chicken drumsticks in a mushroom gravy to be served over rice with steamed cauliflower on the side.

That done, off we went to the ravine. Unfortunately, that early morning sun long disappeared and in its place dark, streaked clouds presaging rain. The sun appears to have felt insulted over its summary dismissal and insisted on returning for a few encores. But by the time we entered the ravine with Jackie and Jillie the clouds had socked firmly back in and reigned supreme.

Cool, at 17C, and windy as well, it was still pleasant, the air scrubbed clear and clean. The creek was somewhat subdued from yesterday's mad rush, but still wide and deep and full, though no longer muddy in appearance. We were surprised when we reached the area where we'd seen an old ash split during the storm of the day before, with two leaders hung up before crashing to the ground, by neighbouring trees. Evidently that wasn't meant to last. Today the split was complete, and so was the collapse, with one leader lying flat on the inner forest floor, the other lying parallel to the trail, with its topmost portion directly on the trail, much to Jackie and Jillie's puzzlement.

We also began to come across the presence of a variety of mushrooms. Not an awful lot, just a number of different types, including fly agaric (amanita muscaria), some of which the squirrels had already been at, knocking them over but without, as far as we could tell, actually nibbling any of them. Most of the leaf mass remains bright green. Here and there some colour is beginning to appear, but it will be a while yet before fall truly manifests itself. 

There is a sprinkling of yellow and red poplar and maple foliage that have descended. And the pines appear to have been given a good shaking-up with this wet, windy weather. Under pine copses a thick layer of orange pine needles now appear, another sign of fall we rarely give much thought to. Just one other person besides ourselves out with his cocky little cocker-spaniel, both of whom we've seen often before, who live in a further-flung area of the community which is where we end up mid-way through our circuit, albeit on ravine trails.

On our return home Jackie and Jillie rushed up the walkway to the porch to see who might possibly be about. Birds usually rise, squirrels decamp sometimes in unison as their peace and comfort is disturbed there. Once the interlopers are gone to Jackie's and Jillie's satisfacton, they look elsewhere for action or entertainment. Today it was attention given to the proliferation of bright little red crabapples fallen from the trees adjacent the porch. Good for rolling about on the ground, a novel ball, and for nibbling. They nibbled.