The tomato plant we have growing below a corner of our elevated deck has grown to truly gigantic proportions. And its output has been prodigious. For the past several months we've been harvesting tomatoes on a daily basis. When Jackie and Jillie happen to be out with us while we're plucking tomatoes they're anxious not to be forgotten. So we give each of them a tomato. They play with it because it's an intact little oval (grape tomatoes) until finally their teeth puncture the fruit, and that's the signal for them to chow it down.

 

 

In our herb garden in the backyard, there's a luxury of parsley ready for use. During the earlier summer months it was plentiful and I used it so generously there was nothing left. But it regenerated and is now ready for constant use. Tonight, we'll have it decorating and flavouring our Friday-night chicken soup. The flowers are still holding up, given this absolutely wonderful weather we've had all September, warm and sunny with the occasional rain event.

 

 

Our roses like this weather, although they would also do well in slightly colder temperatures. At the front garden and in the back, they're enjoying what is left of a holdover summer into early fall, blooming beautifully. Not all of them, mind, but some of the old standbys. Although the perennials are mostly finished for the season, some things like the Harlequin vines have turned colour for fall, while morning glories are still addicted to blossoming in the sun. 

 

I decided to bake a cheesecake today, and thought I'd supplement the cream cheese in the filling with ricotta, sour cream, eggs and sugar. Along with vanilla flavouring I added brandy, so it'll be interesting to see how much that will influence the finished product.

When we were out in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie this afternoon, it was a strange coincidence that the thought passed my mind that we should be seeing the returning Great Blue Heron that usually drops by for a rest period of a week or so while it is migrating back south for the winter months. And darned, when we approached the creek close to the first bridge, if it wasn't there, standing in the creek, a picture of regal beauty.

 

Until Jillie became aware of its presence, that is, and began her irritatingly eternal barking and the bird rose majestically into the forest canopy. We watched as it was transformed from an awkward-appearing take-off, to a graceful glide over the treetops. We ascended the hill that came next and as we made our way across the broad top, kept looking for the heron. And sure enough, he had temporarily roosted in a tree, and as we passed, he once again flew onward, in the same direction we were headed for.

 

Going back to the creek, Irving said. Eventually we made our way back down from the elevated portion of the forest and we saw in the distance a couple walking by the very point in the creek where we've often seen the heron resting. I wondered if the bird would be there, and as we walked closer along the trail, there he was, looking like a tall stick poking out of the creek.

 

And with our passage, although Jackie and Jillie didn't see the heron this time and simply trotted on before us on the trail, the bird slowly rose out of the water and, flapping its great wings went aloft, turned left, then right, and made off into the distance. I attempted repeatedly to get a photograph of the bird, but to no avail. It moved too quickly and my camera takes its time focusing before it will click the photo.