I've put a flatbread in the oven to bake so we can have warm savoury bread along with our fish chowder this evening. Both done a little differently this time; the bread dough done with milk, butter, egg, topped with crushed fennel and caraway and Parmesan cheese for something different. And I've given the chowder a tomato base, so we'll see what that turns out like, spooned over sour cream at dinnertime. We had some hard, tasteless nectarines, so I decided to make a compote of them. And we'll have a colourful fresh vegetable salad before the chowder.

 

Yesterday, Irving did chicken drumsticks again on the barbecue, and baked potatoes and we had the broccoli salad I'd pre-prepared and refrigerated for the tastes to meld of everything that went into it. Jackie and Jillie quite sincerely appreciated the chicken, and so in fact, did we. We were disappointed in the strawberries we'd bought the day before; stored too long, past their prime, not very sweet, too ripe. Not as though they had to be transported far, grown in Quebec. We've had far better coming the distance from the U.S. and Mexico.

 

 

While we were having dinner, glancing out the patio doors and up beyond the top of the canopy installed on the deck, the sky was just beginning to reflect the gentle shades of dusk in a wide blue arc with stretches of pink clouds reflecting the setting sun. Nothing could be more peaceful and comfortable to the eye.

 

We had a really cold night, last night. The cool, cotton sheets that stay cool and comfortable in the hot evenings were just too cool last night. But today was laundry day and I exchanged those for softer cotton sheets. And decided, with the forecast for the rest of the week almost as cool, to haul out our light-weight duvet; it's time now that September has arrived.

 

We needed light cotton jackets when we stirred ourselves in mid-afternoon to follow Jackie and Jillie into the ravine for an extended hike through the forest trails. No point looking any longer for red, ripe berries, they're gone. We've picked them all, whatever was left dried up and the shrubs look pretty worn. Even the apples now seem past their prime of perfect ripeness, so none were doled out to Jackie and Jillie today.

 

But there's always doggy cookies and they're more than happy to resign themselves to the usual dog treats. Shared out with other dogs that happen to come along, recognize Irving and patiently await their due. We came across quite a few in fact this afternoon walking their humans and each time required a stop and a conversation; we're not lacking for social contacts coronavirus or not. The bad news is that the case numbers are steadily increasing.

 

When we finally bid the forest adieu, the orchids beyond lifted their bright pink heads as we passed in acknowledgement of our fleeting presence and a pleasant send-off for the day. The stroll down the street to our house takes mere minutes during which Jackie and Jillie have to be re-leashed to the foot of our driveway. And then once unleashed again they speed off toward the pathway leading to the porch to see who might be there. A little red squirrel, that's who, and he perkily dashed from porch to tree to shrub to tree again, flicking his tail, daring the two little black imps to catch him.