Summer is just too short. It seemed like only yesterday that we felt so buoyant that spring had finally arrived. It was only yesterday, that we greeted the changed season, and welcomed back all the sights and sounds and smells of spring with its succession of little surprises each of which was a delight to us. Hard to believe that May went by so quickly, then June and July. Without a by-your-leave they left and now August is upon us, the month that usually tells us its successor will herald a new change altogether. \\

We woke to another absolutely perfect summer day. A day of cool breezes, sun and a tolerable temperature high of 27C. No question we'd respond to the lure of the forest. It called and we answered. And since it was such a perfect day for tramping through the summer woods, we did that and more.  We chose to explore a few infrequently-visited trails, and one completely unfamiliar. Time-consuming to be sure, but what  better way to consume the day than in the confines of the summer forest? Everyone agreed.

For the first time since the late May storm comprised of a series of colossal wind gusts and torrential rain stormed through this area, we went along to an old trail a distance from our usual circuit. There were casualties there just as there had been in the part of the ravine we have greater familiarity with. It's in that area that the oldest, largest pine in the extended forest still lives. But unlike the fate of the giant old spruce that succumbed to the force of the tornado-like micro-bursts, that old pine still stood intact.

Ironically, it was difficult to access and we had to pick our way carefully toward what remained of an tertiary trail to reach it, because other old  trees had been destroyed and lay sprawled in death over generous portions of the trail. We trod between shattered branches and pine needles to make our way forward. Jackie and Jillie didn't flinch at being closed in at their height by the fallen woody detritus, just found a way to make their way through, as we did.

It stood there, with its massive limbs, complete and complacent, although many of its nearby companions had been brought low. We've no idea how old it might be, but surely in the vicinity of at least several hundred years. So, if it were possible, its experience of what had transpired around it in the forest over an extended period of time would make fascinating storytelling, if it were so inclined  to reveal what it might have seen.

As for us, we saw ripening cherries dangling in the wild cherry trees, and vitis labrusca grapes hanging from robust wild vines that had grown, draping themselves over the forest trees. In that part of the ravine, a meadow exists with fields of Queen Anne's lace and goldenrod, baking under the summer sun. There, as in other parts of the ravine fleabane and daisies proliferate.

 

On our return to link back into the usual trails that comprise our circuit, we took another unfamiliar trail, this one leading to a tiny glade with a pond which back in May looked stunningly serene, a hidden getaway for a weary soul. Now, at this time of summer when wildflowers and all the vegetation that makes up the forest bracken has grown robustly, the area surrounding the little pond is thickly green and tall with forest grasses, ferns and wildflowers. 

In essence another pollinating meadow of sorts, this one landscaped completely by nature, no human agency involved. And here cabbage butterflies and bees fluttered busily about, sucking nectar and gathering pollen; in the process engaged in the critical pollination and germination of all that grows in the world of the forest flora.