Today was the weather antithesis of yesterday. We involuntarily exchanged sunshine for overwhelmingly dark, angry skies. The fencing crew failed to return today, and perhaps just as well, since they'd have had to cope with rain. We're pleased with how the fence appears, although it's completely up just on two sides, the third yet to be done. There are wheelbarrows and other equipment left in the yard, and thick mounds of sticky clay. So our new routine with the puppies, taking them out the side door to the side garden continues. They're getting the hang of it, and so are we.

Actually,there was some morning sun; a brief period that was cheerfully bright until the cloud cover moved in. The house became dark, really dark. And it always feels cool without the sun, brightening and warming the house through our tall windows. But viewed from another perspective, it's also cozy.

Rain held off and in the very early afternoon we decided to head out to the ravine. Take our chances, as it were. Of course everyone geared with rainjackets. With the clouds came blustery, heavily gusting winds. As soon as we entered the forest it became immediately apparent that the wind was making quick work of foliage undecided whether to fall. With each tremendous gust at random intervals, a flood of leaves came tumbling and whirling down to the forest floor.

One of those episodes occurred while Jillie was some distance in front of us, distracted with something. We watched as a tremendous gust barrelled through the deciduous trees causing a huge flush of leaves to tumble like a violent waterfall, settling toward the very area where Jillie was standing and completely engulfing her. She took action immediately, racing back to us, and as she did the wind picked up that section of fallen leaves and lifted them en masse back toward the forest interior.

It did rain lightly while we were out. Nothing concerning. A strange atmosphere though; the combination of the early afternoon, the howling wind and light rain. And an odd feeling being in that landscape of quickly disappearing overall colour. Oncoming rain and continued steady wind blasts will make fairly quick work of what remains on the deciduous trees. Not that the conifers aren't losing loads of dead needles as well, along with cones. It's just that time of year.

It does seem to us that the colour this year is more emphatic, more spectacular than we recall from other years. Possibly, we think that way every year. The striking atmosphere, the ambient colour, the brightness of the reds, golds, surrounding us gave an air of unreality to everything, as though we were walking through a dream. 

When we returned I decided to remain outdoors. The hostas are fast yellowing and drying; their arcing foliage and sweeping presence completely marred. I wanted to cut everything back. Including the lily fronds and some of the hydrangeas. Good thing I've already done the rock garden at the far side of the house and most of the backyard; it's such a mess now I could never get at everything.

The rain began while I was out at the front garden, sweeping up the walkways and filling compost bags. Irving came out to urge me to come in, but I felt so invigorated I wanted to stay out and continue, and so I did. Eventually I felt I had enough. There was still dinner to prepare, after all. And even after cutting back as much as I managed to, it's just starting to make a dent in the fall garden clean-up; there's so much to do yet.

In the house, I decided to bake a cornbread. This time with lots of grated sharp cheddar cheese and chives. To pair with the vegetable soup I put on for dinner. And then I relaxed. Irving was busy re-wiring one of our table lamps. He has a habit when he finds himself short of something, to 'borrow' it from another source; a riff on robbing Peter to pay Paul. Eventually Peter comes calling, insisting he be restored...