Irving has always been the doctor in this household. When the children were young and something went amiss, it was always he who took charge of the patching up and nursing duties. And he still does.  If I hurt myself he insists on looking after bandaging whatever it is. And so it was with my knee. I slapped an ordinary baid-aid on to stop the bleeding, and he replaced it with one so broad and wide it almost covered my kneecap. then replaced it again  the following day with another, only this time put padding under it, because I said I was going to go ahead and wash the floors regardless. And when I used a thick, fat elastic to secure a household sponge to my knee so it would be completely cushioned, I had no problem washing the floors.

Last night we enjoyed a turkey-breast dinner. Simple enough, just roasted with onions, potatoes and yam, served with asparagus and freshly-prepared cranberry sauce. There was a time when you had to buy a whole turkey. Now half-turkey breast is available to be prepared at any time. When we spoke with our younger son in Vancouver last night he said he had enjoyed a turkey dinner at a friend's house. He had himself baked a pumpkin pie and taken it over to his friend's house for dessert.

We were expecting the fence-installation crew to arrive to begin installing our new fence today. And we knew that although we intended to do the weekly food shopping as usual, we'd have a problem leaving Jackie and Jillie alone at home. Strange young men bustling about the backyard and our neighbours' would be guaranteed to send them into a frenzy of barking. thoughts of them being confused and upset, convinced Irving the solution lay in only one of us entering the store. So we took them with us. It meant that Irving had to sit in the car with them while I did the shopping, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

They surprised us, though. After the initial round of panicked barking first thing in the morning, they just watched curiously as the men yanked out the old fence and marked out the new one. Hard work, but at least it was perfect weather; not too cold, and sunny. When the fence was completely removed, we had views of the yards on either side and behind us. Strangely enough, I would have thought that fence removed, the visual perception would have been more spacious. Instead, our tiny backyard looked even smaller, almost cramped for space, the visual demarcation of the fence absent.

It was much milder temperature-wise when we went out to the ravine for our afternoon hike. The sun rode high in the sky, warm and brilliant. We were able to leave Jillie off leash so she could meander about as she prefers to do, though she never complains when she's left on leash. There's rarely a need to leash Jackie, however. For one thing he has a tendency to remain with us, while Jillie tends to trot off like an independent little busybody. And it's she who does all the screaming, barking her little head off, and just ignoring our pleas to desist, when she hears, smells or sees other dogs approaching.

On the long weekend, families came out in droves to walk through the forest trails and enjoy the beauty of the fall atmosphere, the visual sight of gleaming, soft colour transforming the forest canopy. Unlike at other times when people unaccustomed to the woods think they'll give it a try, some with children some without, there are long faces. Not this time, all those who wandered along the trails seemed to be enjoying the landscape and the privilege of sharing a yearly spectacle that never fails to enthrall us with its ephemeral and sublime grace.