We awoke this morning to light streaming through our bedroom windows. And that was a refreshing, welcome change from much of the past week gone by when rain was incessant. Mind, it's also colder now, we're expecting frost again tonight, but we can live with that. And whatever is left of the garden can also live with the frost, at least a day or two of it, since all that blooms has been well inundated and thus protected to a degree from icy temperatures.

Warming bowls of hot oatmeal seemed perfect for breakfast following our fruit course of melons and bananas. And then, of course, tea and coffee. Jackie and Jillie had their usual bowls of kibble, yoghurt, bits of melon and a leftover meatball cut into small pieces. Oh, and a scrambled egg between them to set them up for the day. 

A day that looked promising, that would compensate in part for their having been shut out of a walk yesterday since there was not even the briefest period of rain lifting enough for us to get out. It poured and it poured and then poured some more. Even the canopy in the forest isn't dense enough to ensure they wouldn't get drenched, despite wearing raincoats.

After breakfast, Irving re-arranged the space in the larger of our two garden sheds, and began emptying the deck of its summer furniture. Now it's all securely stored in the shed, with shovels and the snow thrower moved to the front of the shed, readily available when needed. There's still more furniture at the front of the house, and that'll be next in line to join the storage brigade.

The temperature had warmed to a toasty 9C by the time we got out in the afternoon for our ravine walk. The wind was  balanced by the warming effect of the sun sailing through a blue sky with not even a hint of a wispy-white cloud. Wind and rain of the days previous, especially yesterday when torrents came down and the wind whipped the atmosphere, had brought down light branches and far more foliage.

The trails were dazzling in a radiant display of bright yellow leaves, both poplar and maple. We swept through the the growing piles, appreciating the colour, knowing that as the days progress the bright yellow will become a tired and unappealing dark and dismal grey, the freshness dissipated, the still-moist leaves becoming brittle on their way to decay.

On our return home a short survey of the garden revealed roses still in bloom with new flower buds presenting themselves in anticipation of their yet-endless opportunities to bloom. It's amazing how tough and adaptive to inclement weather some roses can be.