The out-of-doors has been transformed doubly, once on a long-term basis, though temporary, the other shorter-term and also temporary, though both repeat themselves interminably, year over year. Today is as raw a day as can possibly be imagined for fall. All of nature's elements in a bad mood, displaying a truly truculent face to the world. Heavily overcast and dark to begin with, then rain began and continued for hours, and with it a hostile wind to tear away foliage otherwise not prepared to depart their hosts just yet. The daytime high of 7C, seemed much, much colder. 

Not much we can do about the weather, that's nature's precinct and she brooks no interference from mere mortals. But October is fast disappearing, and soon November will arrive, with colder, wetter, windier days and by then there will be no leaves left for the wind to distribute through the landscape. Before that happens, the end of October has to come and go and with it the traditional kids' holiday of creepy Hallowe'en where normally nice children learn that threats work; if they shout trick or treat, invariably they're treated to the wherewithal of dentistry's worst nightmares.

Some of our neighbours have transformed their front lawns beyond preparations for winter by putting their gardens to sleep. They've conspired to give neighbourhood children a chill thrill. In place of traditional pumpkins, symbolic of the season and the wicked celebrations, and the witches flying high on broomsticks they never imagined their mothers capable of when sweeping up the detritus they bring indoors from the great outdoors, the morose imagination of homeowners has turned to the final frontier of life; death.

Oh yes, there are ghosts and goblins and ghouls galore, but there are also tombstones, graves, skeletons turning ordinary lawns into cemeteries. If that doesn't frighten innocent little kiddies with the apparitions of the afterlife, what would? Even little dogs respond. On one lawn sitting very comfortably not far from ours is a newcomer to the community whom Jackie and Jillie had never suspected existed. On their way up the street this afternoon padding along to the ravine, they were suddenly confronted with a pumpkin-headed bumpkin seated on a chair, surveying the streetscape.

Puppies don't scream in fright, they bark in high decibels of fear and back off from near proximity to the threat. The bumpkin failed to respond, obviously considering itself too dignified to be outraged over two little dogs' yelping recommendations that it absent its presence from the street that two little dogs are accustomed to patrolling as guards of the public weal. Finally, they parted, Mr. Bumpkin assuring them it was prepared to take their recommendation under advisement, and the puppies reassured that soon all would return to normal.

It felt beyond cold, in the ravine, the wind doing a thorough job of making the high temperature for the day as miserable as possible. The rain had stopped, but the trails were slippery still, the sky turning even darker as though the plan was to begin wringing the overload of moisture from the raggedy grey clouds above in celebration of nature's cranky attitude today. But the rain held off, for which we were grateful.

Despite being dressed for rain, when it's this cool combined with pelting rain and nasty wind, things can get pretty miserable. And Jackie and Jillie had suffered enough today having to put up with the bumpkin-scare; they needed a break...

When we wound up our hike through the forest trails and returned home, we stopped briefly to admire our neighbours' handiwork, then surveyed our own lawn. No Hallowe'en decorations, none at all, not a one. Not even a pumpkin or two. There are still some annuals left in pots, though the perennials have been cut back severely to greet winter and their long sleep.