Irving and I have gained the impression, born over the many years of our regular travels to Vermont and New Hampshire -- the two New England States whose mountain landscapes call out to us to keep returning to enjoy mountain hikes, first with our children, then on our own -- that the people who live there are almost without exception, kindly, friendly and outgoing. Interacting with such people makes life infinitely more enjoyable. The natural spontaneity of their engagement with strangers is both refreshing and reassuring.

 

We've noted, over the years, that service people in particular, employees of supermarkets, gas stations, all manner of commercial shops are unfailingly polite, deferential and helpful. That can only partly be explained by the fact that most of our encounters have been in rural areas, areas highly dependent on tourism. And because we are attracted to these natural wilderness regions that also draw visitors from the adjoining state of Massachusetts we can quite clearly differentiate the manners of the latter from the former. 

 

In comparison to Vermont and New Hampshire operating a series of official rest spots for travellers, complete with tourism information buildings and restrooms set in manicured micro-parks with picnic tables and benches for the use of people driving through, Montreal, the Canadian province adjoining Vermont which also used to operate similar rest stops, closed theirs years ago, and now offer no comfort stations at all for the use of people travelling through the province, much less bilingual signage as a sign of courtesy.

 

While we were away last week driving around New Hampshire visiting our old haunts, the 'check engine' light and another engine warning light came on. This of course, concerned Irving. Before we left he had taken the truck in for regular maintenance and checks and it was given a clean bill of health. The truck is a Nissan, and we've had it for ten years, a really excellent vehicle. Our friend Byron, the proprietor of the cottage complex where we were staying suggested we stop in at O'Reilly Auto Parts at Plymouth.

 

We did that, and the mechanic who came out with diagnostic equipment to check things out under the hood, verified that the signal lights were alarming us for no good reason, since everything checked out perfectly fine. Her opinion was that excess oil sprayed under the truck chassis in preparation for winter protection from rusting had triggered the warning lights, nothing else. Irving thanked her, and wanted to pay for the service, but was informed that the establishment doesn't charge for that service. He thanked them profusely. Then he drove on to WalMart and came out with a large layered chocolate cake. We drove back to the auto shop, and he expressed his appreciation once again, with the cake.

 

That was then, this is now, a beautiful warm 20C day of full sun and light breezes. Night temperatures now plunge between 6C and 10C. Our meals have changed completely from an emphasis on light meals mostly salads of one type or another, or barbecued meals with corn, to more substantial comfort-preparation meals. And we're back once again to having Friday night meals in the dining room. Last night we had chicken-noodle soup, Cornish game hen with roasted mushrooms and cauliflower along with a potato pudding, for dinner. 

After breakfast this morning I baked simple sugar cookies, a rolled-out cookie dough that Irving prefers to all other types of cookies. He'll have a large baked apple stuffed with raisins and honey-cinnamon with his much lighter dinner tonight.

 

Our circuit in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie was beyond pleasant. Because the temperature is cooler now, they ask to be let out on the deck to enjoy the warmth of the sun these mornings. In the ravine, along the forest trails, it's impossible not to notice random shrubs beginning to turn colour.  And although fall colours haven't yet decorated the forest trees, there's plenty of fallen leaves of a dun colour crisping on the forest floor.

 

Change is in the very air. This is the time of year when wild fall asters rule the wildflower roost. They're now even more numerous and fresher than the Himalayan orchids still in bloom, but in only select colonies on the forest hillsides. We also noticed that discrete colonies of Partridgeberry spread on the forest floor are flaunting their red, ripe berries for fall.

 

When we returned home, I decided to remain outdoors for a while, to sweep up the walkway of fallen leaves and above all, tons of tiny red, ripe crabapples fallen from the trees above. It's obvious that our neighbouring squirrel and chipmunk populations have been enjoying the apples. They carry them from the ground to elevated areas like the garden infrastructure that Irving built so many years ago, to nibble at them. Jackie and Jillie, back from their walk, enjoy a few of the apples as well.

 

I also cut back branches of our overgrown spirea encroaching into the areas claimed by one of our yews and a sunshine maple alongside the driveway. It always feels so good to be out in the garden, doing these little chores, looking about, appreciating the form, texture and colour still ornamenting the garden. By next month the chores will take on a different character, for then it will be a much more difficult and quite sad engagement, when the garden has to be disassembled. So we enjoy it while yet we can...