On Labour day we laboured. Irving was doing the vacuuming upstairs and I was downstairs shaking my dusters out the front door. One of the little black squirrels was hanging about. Each time I opened the door there he was, on the lip of the porch waiting expectantly. Only an hour earlier a host of squirrels and birds had populated the porch newly strewn with peanuts. Now they were gone. Little greedy stood there, disappointed. On the other hand, could be he wasn't with the group and arrived late to the party.

Since the boss and headman of the peanut distributions was busy I took a handful of pistachio nuts and tossed them onto the porch. Remembering afterward that they were salted. A glimpse of black fur, a twitch of the eye and they were all gone. Well a little bit of salt wouldn't hurt wildlife, would it? My conscience pricked at me. I fuddled about in the pantry for sunflower seeds. They too were salted. I threw out a handful anyway. And then my conscience really went to town. I vowed I'd leave the strewing of goodies to the man who does it best.

Three crows came along, and they're awfully big birds. I figured I could either go out and sweep up the seeds to discard them or leave them as is. There weren't that many, and they wouldn't hurt the crows; most of the salt would remain on the porch floor. The thought of doing harm to the creatures trusting us was just too much to bear. I resolved to say nothing to Irving, and then the seeds were gone, too. And I went back to my dusting and mopping.

Yesterday's cheese blintzes accompanied by a cherry compote after we'd eaten really sweet, fresh corn went down very well last night. Which is to say Irving, as usual, enjoyed them. Me? Ech! What we're having tonight -- fresh vegetable salad, French onion soup (and for Irving a pair of deviled eggs -- also not among my favourites) with grapes for dessert is more my style.

It's been a peculiar weather day. Some sun, and a lot more rain. Clear skies and then suddenly grey-streaked clouds moving swiftly across the sky, dumping scads of rain. By the time we finished up and went along to keep Jackie and Jillie company in the ravine for a tramp through the forest trails the sun was out again. And then it wasn't. But the rain held off, very considerately.

We had one heck of a time cleaning those little paws, just like yesterday. Repeated applications of slightly soapy water. Their towels looked like laundry artwork; little lack pawprints all over them despite assiduously clearing their tender little pads of muck. In the ravine the creek tumbled along, frothing opaque-brown, quite unappetizing. Rain and the tumult it causes as the swollen creek rakes its bed of clay transforms the water and if there was any goldfish in it we'd never see them.

Maples and poplars are beginning to shed the odd early-turned-colour leaf. The earliest to turn completely will likely be the staghorn sumacs. Their bright-red candles comprised of fuzzy flowerets will soon be joined by compound leaves turning startling shades of red and orange. In two months' time by half-past four in the afternoon the sun will be setting and dusk will be creeping in introducing a fast-falling night.

Best not to dwell on that; it's familiarly inevitable. And the good thing about it that some spectacular sunsets will come with those earlier darkening hours. The other good news is that immediately on our return home from our turn in the forest the sun came out. And as the sun blazed down on the wet world left behind by earlier rain, the clouds burst open again and added to the drenching.