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.