When cold weather arrives, our Friday-night dinners become somewhat furmulaic. In the sense that Friday night meals customarily/culturally for most Jewish families -- at lease those with a European background -- revolve around a predictable cuisine ... chicken soup and a chicken-based dinner to follow. Irving has developed a taste for dark chicken when all of his life he has preferred white chicken and it has been chicken breast in various cooking styles he has been accustomed to. In contrast, I always preferred the dark meat of poultry.

We've now reversed, where my preference is for the breast meat and his has definitely gone over to the dark meat. And the way he most appreciates it cooked is in a gravy comprised of chopped onion and garlic browned slightly in olive oil, mushrooms added and cooked a few minutes until they've diminished in size considerably, then the seasoned chicken pieces quickly browned each side, and set aside for flour to be added to the vegetables, then hot water to create a thickened sauce to which I add a chicken soup cube, paprika, and sliced carrots. Last, the chicken pieces to simmer (covered) in the gravy for 50 minutes. Plated over freshly cooked/steamed rice.

Irving was out after breakfast this morning using a leaf blower/vacuum, to scoop up fallen foliage from the Magnolia, the Mulberry and from the Norway Maple next door. Our own Japanese maple beside the back of the house has turned a delightful red but hasn't yet lost one leaf. When I took Jackie and Jillie out they were convinced the apparatus was a monster attacking Irving and reacted accordingly. 

Today has turned out to be a perfectly wonderful weather day. Just right for working out in the garden. But first, the full sun, light wind and afternoon high temperature of 8C demanded a tramp through the ravine. Evidently the very same impetus influenced other people in the wider community, as we soon discovered. Several years ago we could be out on the trails for hours and see no one else. That time has passed. 

The forest itself has changed, but only reflecting the seasonal transition from summer to fall -- fall preparing for winter. The trees now stand dark and gaunt. They seem a little lonely as though bemoaning their loss of green cover. In areas of the forest where the deciduous trees dominate, they look almost funereal, in contrast to the vibrant, living green of the conifer portion of the forest. 

In those areas where both hardwood and softwood grow companionably, the landscape has a softer appearance. In both, the profusion of fallen foliage and their still-colourful mounds appear nostalgically beautiful. Both colour and fragrance evoke early childhood years of delight in deep piles of fallen leaves. Only to be surpassed by the heady excitement that the aftermath of a snowstorm with its bright, buoyantly sparkling layers of snow elicit in children who clamour to be allowed to build snowmen and produce snow angels.

Back home again, garden work in the front commenced. With Irving digging out the two huge Canna lilies from their perch in our giant garden pots, followed by the emptying of the pots for winter storage. I had earlier cut back the green fronds of the tree peony in the backyard. Now the larger one in the front garden had to be done. It's careful work, to cut away the green and make certain that the emerging buds forming to bloom the following spring are left intact.