We merely had the impression that yesterday was a hot day. That impression was dispelled today, when a really hot day meandered by. The temperature read 25C when we left the house around 9:00 am, and by the time we returned around 11:00 it was 30C. Now that's fairly warm. Particularly on a bright, sunny day. I had planned to get some gardening done, and soon realized those plans would have to be modified.

First off, when we descended the long  hill into the ravine proper, there was Suzanne, gesturing to us to wait for her. She was fast approaching from the bridge to the right, where we always swerve off the descending trail to take the bridge to the left. The one she was vacating was the last bridge we would cross at the completion of our daily circuit.

She wanted to tell us that her husband, Barry, was dead. Strangely, I had thought of him two days earlier, thinking we might soon hear such news of him. And two days earlier was when his death occurred. When we first knew him he was a ravine-hiking stalwart. They had a Golden named Della and she always accompanied him. But that was three decades ago. Now, at 92, he is dead.

He's been in a long-term care home needing closely supervised medical attention for the last seven years. He'd had prostate cancer, spinal problems, and a severe heart condition. They were our neighbours; where we live at the curve of the middle of the street, they lived at the foot of the street. Theirs was a second marriage; he had left his wife and two teen-age sons in favour of marrying a much younger woman, and Suzanne was that younger woman.

She smiled brightly when she informed us. Mostly, she talked about a trip she had taken to Manitoba with a nephew. They had also taken a cruise to the North and she had seen whales. She had just returned from the trip. It was in her absence that Barry died. For the last decade of their lives together Suzanne mostly went her own way, on  rips that never included Barry. And he never seemed to mind. This time he took a trip that didn't include her, and she didn't mind.

Our trip consisted of the usual circuit through the ravine trails. Which was what Jackie and Jillie anticipated. We hadn't got very far once again, before the beautiful young Vizsla came dashing along to exact the usual toll from Irving who has come fully prepared. This dog is the most beutifully proportioned, wonderfully well behaved, lovely temperamented dog with the most graceful movements ever. He's the pride and joy of a young boy who walks him regularly.

We decided before returning home to extend our circuit just a bit, and go around to the forest pollinating meadow. The cost to us of that side trip is a somewht uncomfortable stroll through sawgrass taller than we are grown in on the pathway alongside the bank of the ravine creek. It's a wonder that Jackie and Jillie don't balk at going through the grass, it's so thickly packed. From time to time I can feel a boot toe in the grip of the grass, temporarily restraining me from striding forward; the kind of snare that can lead to a trip-and-fall.

Halfway along the path we come to the feral tomatillo plants full of gradually ripening fruits. The fruits themselves cannot be seen, completely encased in the thin green layer of vegetation covering and presumably protecting it from insect predation. A really unusual sight to come across such exotic plants by chance winding up in a forest setting.

The loosestrife is in full flower. The wild blackberries ripening in the heat and glare of the sun. Irving always picks whatever is there of both blackberries and thimbleberres for Jackie and Jillie. Jillie eats the blackberries, Jackie will eat only the thimbleerries. Jillie is typically omniverous, while Jakie tends to be a little more selectve, though he usualy loves any kind of fruit and vegetable.