The lone littlest of the raccoon kits was by himself as usual on the porch when we went up to bed last night. Jackie and Jillie had just been out in the backyard last thing, reluctantly, in the pouring rain, the positive aspect of which was their anticipation of a brisk rubdown. Moving to the front door we stood a few minutes watching the little fellow outside, and I had the brief impression that neither Jackie nor Jillie would bark, but Jackie did, and I felt a pang of regret, like kicking yourself in the backside when the little creature hurried away.

We stood vigil for a while after shooing our little miscreants upstairs to bed, but the small raccoon failed to reappear, as we thought it might, given that most often the others, reassured that there was no imminent threat, do. Irving put out a few more edibles, then followed me upstairs and we tucked our rascals into bed. Then, while I was changing into a nightgown, he went back downstairs and sure enough the little fellow had returned and was nonchalantly and daintily selecting treats. That made us feel better.

All this, in the rain. And rain continued all night, just as it has for the past several nights. When we woke this morning it was to a dark atmosphere, the kind of morning when your warm and comforting blankets on a cool night tighten their grip and won't let go, convincing you that it is that much more pleasurable to remain in bed. We resisted initially, then since the puppies were quiet and obviously inclined to remain in deep sleep, we did the same.

The rain thundered down pummeling the landscape, and there was no question they'd have to plunge into it once again before we'd even think about breakfast. Another towelling-down and breakfast was on the way. Their kibble sported some little slivers of honeydew and fresh chicken, but this was Sunday and they know, and can smell the French toast and sausages on the stove, and that they get to share our breakfast.

Once again we resigned ourselves to the expectation the weather wouldn't relent and this would be a no-forest-hike day. But by three in the afternoon came that lull that invited us to make a dash for it, and we did. Although the canopy was dripping the rain held off for the length of time we tramped a shorter-than-usual circuit. Not the kind of day that we would expect to see many other people and dogs out and about in the forest.

But we did come across someone we know who lives a few streets over from ours and whose backyard on that street backs onto the ravine. Her two dogs had made a trip down from the height of the ravine to the fast-running creek swollen with rain, to have a quick dunk. Jackie and Jillie hailed them with the usual boisterous barking they reserve for friends and we climbed to the spine and the main trail network.

Another day of rain and 6C temperature overnight is hastening the colour change in the trees, although most still retain their healthy summer dark-green aspect. Here and there, however, there are bright reminders that soon the entire forest will be in colour-flux. Now, each day we see a larger swath of greens that have turned the palest of green-yellows, and among them some trees, like maples, sumacs and poplar entirely bright red, tucked in among those not yet changing.

The sky was densely crowded with grey clouds, the atmosphere soupy with unseen minuscule water droplets. The far-off sound of geese overhead informed us that migration is underway, but there was nothing to be seen in the sky to reveal the presence of the geese, flying through the mass of clouds, and one wonders what that does to interfere with their navigational skills?