It's strange how childhood memories long submerged deep in our subconscious can suddenly rise to the surface and startle us. Like the recollection of how when we were very young and played on the street with other children, we took notice of odd-looking automobiles appearing on the streets, at the same time that horse-drawn delivery carts still outnumbered personal vehicles and trucks. Irving remembers with me that running after these carts had their rewards, picking up hot tar and chewing it. Waiting for shards of ice to be available when the iceman used a pick to cut huge blocks to size to fit into a household's icebox.

 

These memories begin to float to the surface as we get older. Today I suddenly recalled when my family lived in a second-floor flat comprised of a tiny kitchen, a shared household bathroom, a tiny room that was my sister's and my bedroom, and a larger room that was my parents' bedroom that we also used for a kind of living room, listening together Friday night to the radio program "The Shadow Knows". The third bedroom was rented to a single older man, and the house owners lived with their two sons on the bottom floor.

I attended a school directly across the street, I believe it was called Manning Street Public School. And up the street lived a family in a large house behind which was a factory that produced seltzer water and soft drinks: Dominion Soft Drinks, owned by the family. There were four girls in the family, the youngest my age and whom I hoped would be my friend. Not just my friend, my firmly-committed best friend. My ardour was not reciprocated. It wouldn't be until years later when, at age 14, I met Irving. Finally I had a best friend.

 

My best friend and I are settling into the approach to winter. Last night we enjoyed an old staple; fish and chips, where I bake a half side of Pacific salmon, oven-'fry' potato chips and present that with asparagus tips, instead of the paella I've been making lately that finds great favour with us. Today, another traditional meal; chicken soup, chicken and potato pudding.

 

I had decided to bake a cheesecake for dessert. And to dress the top with a blueberry glaze. A two-step-preparation confection to close out our meal. We need heftier meals now, since we've been returned to mid-fall weather. The brief period of Indian summer we basked in for the past four-five days is gone. Last night the temperature dipped to -3C. Enough of a hard frost to finalize the presence of blooming annuals. The begonias that have so delighted us this past month have been frost-burned, they're drooping pathetically, the merest shadow of their former presence. Tomorrow is scheduled for finishing the garden clean-up.

 

Yesterday afternoon when I was tidying up the garden I did lift a number of the annuals, but hadn't the heart to harvest them all since they were so fresh-looking and beautiful. All it took to change that was one night of sub-zero temperature.

In the afternoon we set out as is usual for us, to take Jackie and Jillie for their romp through the ravine. All the vegetation on the forest floor has suffered a similar fate to that of the garden annuals. The deciduous trees have followed suit; barely any trees still bearing leaves. Those that still jealously cling to their foliage tend to be saplings, immature trees that often hold on to their leaves right through the winter.

 

Today's ramble through the ravine was easily the most frigid yet, this fall; crisp and intrusively cold. But the sun was out warming the landscape with its brilliant light. The temperature was 8C, but lacking the ferocity of yesterday's wind bursts. We were surprised by the numbers of people out with their companion dogs. Perhaps the result of knowing there won't be many days left of such intense sunlight to illuminate what is left of the forest leafmass. Which is not much.