There's not very much space to move about back behind the larger of our two garden sheds. We've used it as a depot, over the years, to store plastic garden pots, tomato cages and other items not used over the winter months. And there too is where our old compost bins are located. They're no longer in use, since the municipality began its kitchen waste pick-up program, supplying us with a wheeled green bin that is supposed to be put out weekly for pick-up. It all goes into a giant municipal compost pile.

I emptied our two compost bins last spring, into the gardens. Not completely emptied, there's still more of that garden gold available for use remaining in them. We'll spread the rest late this coming fall. Irving means to disassemble them, since they're no longer in active use. And when they've been packed away, there will be more spare room between the fence and the shed. He's concerned that the contractors removing the existing backyard fence and installing a new replacement might not have enough maneuverable room to do their work. 

So he went out to the backyard this morning after breakfast to begin clearing everything away there. He had years ago paved the area with brick left over from when he had built all the brickwork at the front of the house in installing the garden hardscape infrastructure. Even though the bricks were tightly  packed together, lilies spread and began growing there in between the cracks.

Since today turned out hot again, close to 30C, with full sun in the morning it didn't seem like an opportune time to do that kind of physical work draining of energy, but he went ahead regardless. A bit at a time, he said, a little bit daily until it's done. Jackie and Jillie offered to help, but he excused them and sent them off to play, instead.

And it wasn't long before they offered to lead us through the ravine's forest trails a bit later in the early afternoon, so we agreed we wouldn't waste any more time. As usual, the moment we walked into the shelter of the forest, its canopy threw deep shade our way, and that, with the added impetus of continued breezes, lifted the thick pall of suffocating heat for us.

It never takes very long winding our way through the forest trails before a dog or two suddenly shows up to remind Irving that he's not forgotten. Usually they came galloping toward him, then abruptly stop and plant themselves casually yet anxiously at his feet, awaiting recognition and the offer of cookies. A ritual that pleases Jackie and Jillie mightily, since every time other dogs appear, when the cookies get doled out, in fairness to them, they become part of the distribution ritual.

Just as we reached the the pollinating meadow we realized the sun had retired and in its place was a shielding  cloud cover, and light rain was gently sprinkling down from above. Rain light enough to be as yet of no account, not impelling us to hurry along. Irving took his time picking berries from the blackberry canes and thimbleberry shrubs. And our two puppies were the major beneficiaries.

On our way to the ravine we met up with one of our neighbours at the group mailbox, standing beside the ravine entrance. His tale of woe was that a riverboat cruise along the Rhine had to be cancelled because of abnormal low water levels. Then as we returned from our hike, our next-door neighbour told us a tour they had booked for Bahrain had been cancelled, and in lieu of returning their down payment on the trip, they were offered a tour to Turkey; Istanbul and surrounding areas.