Cool, dry and sunny today, I decided it would be the perfect time to fertilize the garden pots, and even some of the garden areas for the first time this summer. While I was filling the watering pails and dissolving the fertilizer I did an automatic inventory of the flowers, mostly annuals, inhabiting the pots and thought they needed the extra boost. Halfway through, I heard a faint voice calling my name, and there, at the end of the driveway was Margaret, on her way around the block, and back to her home on the street behind ours.

 

I haven't seen her in several weeks, and even in that brief period, she looks more like a wisp of humanity than ever as she toddled uncertainly down the street, following our conversation. She and Chris, she told me, had been down East to visit with family. Several of their grandchildren were graduating from university and they had a wonderful time with family. Margaret is nothing if not the sweetest person in the neighbourhood. It's good to see her ambulatory despite the obvious effort it takes for her.

 

 

Earlier in the day I was busy in the kitchen, baking a blueberry pie for dinner. Dinner dessert, that is. I also put a chicken soup on to simmer, and planned closer to dinnertime to prepare a mushroom-gravy chicken thigh dish to be served over sticky, Asian-style rice, Irving's favourite combination. Fresh berries are now so plentiful and the cost is extremely reasonable; making the fruit into pies a special treat at this time of year, although serving the fruit with yoghurt is another option.

 

 

We had gone out with Jackie and Jillie earlier in the afternoon, for our usual saunter through the ravine. It isn't all 'saunter', granted, since it is a ravine, after all, and that means hills to be climbed and the descents that come with ascents as we make our way in a circuit long familiar to our puppies. In areas where there are little groves of Serviceberry trees, the air is saturated with the perfume of their flowers en route to becoming summer berries.

 

We saw no one else out on this perfect late-spring day approaching the summer equinox, the first official day of summer. Song sparrows in the forest treated us to the most sublimely melodic melodies, and we could also hear the manic cries of a Pileated woodpecker. Walking down by the creek we looked for any signs that the Mallard ducks might still be in residence, but none appeared, and we take it that they've moved on, after spending several months here on their way back to their permanent summer habitat.

 

 

Nor did we see the Great Blue Heron that has continued to intrigue us when we glimpse it from time to time rising from the creek into the forest beyond. Jackie and Jillie on occasion make a half-hearted dash for squirrels and then wonder where the wily little creatures are, when they make directly for the trunk of nearby trees to disappear from their sight, clever enough to position themselves on the opposite side to where Jackie searches out their presence, leaving him beyond puzzled.

 

 

On our return back home, we sat awhile out in the front garden, relaxing, enjoying the richness of the garden colours, and discussing between us the debate that took place the night before when the two unlikeliest of presidential candidates in the United States -- each the most controversial figure imaginable -- performed, each to his level of mental competence, which isn't saying much, as it happens.

 

Realistically, and regrettably, Canada hasn't too much to boast about in the political arena, with a prime minister and federal cabinet that has proven itself over the years to be incompetent, divisive and destructive of the most basic values of Canadian inheritance.  The electorate, in fact, is well and truly sick of the ethical and moral lapses of the current government. 

 

The Americans, at least, have their general election in the coming months; Canadians must wait another full year and more before they have the opportunity to bid the current Members of Parliament farewell...not soon enough!

 

The thick, overheated stagnancy of the heat dome that has dominated this area for the past week finally has abated. Instead of 32+C, we're now in the relief of a reasonable 20C atmosphere. Even the sometimes-brisk wind that accompanied those high temperatures did little to moderate the smothering heat. And for those days out we went before breakfast with Jackie and Jillie to get in an early morning walk for them through the forest. They seemed puzzled about the change of routine, and it did seem strange not to head out in the afternoon for the forest. But as long as they were given their salad as their afternoon treat they were fine with it.

 

 

The vegetation in the forest and the garden was being sorely tested. On the one hand this spring has seen growing conditions that plants of all kinds responded to with great enthusiasm. Growth spurts have been phenomenal, and so has the blooming of plants, offering us visual treats of bright beauty in a bounty of gratitude.  For the past several days it's been different; the heat and the burning sun has produced a setback in that fresh garden appearance that even watering did not dissipate. 

 

 

No need for an early morning trot through the forest for Jackie and Jillie today. Given the cooler weather we could take our time. To a degree, since the time slot between 2:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. was reserved for a technician to check the bill of health of our air conditioner, the second and longest-lasting this house has had in its 35 years of existence. So we went out with them at 1:00 p.m., got hung up talking a bit too long with neighbours, but managed to return home before 2:00 anyway.

 

 

I had wracked my mental baking file earlier in the day to think of a baked dessert for today, and finally remembered I hadn't baked a jellyroll in quite a long time. Since we've got fresh strawberries I thought slicing them and filling a vanilla jellyroll with the fruit and with jam under the fruit would be fine. The sponge is easy enough: 1 cup of cake and pastry flour, 2 tsp. baking powder, 1/4 tsp.salt, 3 large eggs, 1/4 c. cold water, 3/4 cup of granulated sugar, and a tsp. of vanilla. Spread over waxed paper in a cookie tin, it bakes for only 12 to 14 minutes in a hot oven. Then it's turned out on another sheet of waxpaper sprinkled with sugar, sitting atop a tea towel. Gentle care required in pulling off the waxed paper the roll baked on, then it's rolled up inside the towel to cool. Once it's cool, it's unrolled, spread with strawberry jam, then the sliced strawberries. Done. 

 

We came across the latest of the dogwalkers that we've known through our years in the ravine, and he's absolutely the best one; the others have moved on to other concerns. This fellow can walk a dozen dogs of all breeds, sizes and  temperaments without problems arising. He's sensitive to the dogs and their needs and proclivities and they obey him instantly. If he's got a new dog, he keeps it on leash until it familiarizes itself with routine. They all seem to thrive, they're all lively and invested in their opportunity to enjoy the forest and they're all well behaved. More than I can say for our two, whose barking they ignore.

 

We were taken aback just as we were winding up our circuit, to see a bench had been installed close to a bank of the creek, not far from the last of the bridges we cross to clamber  up the last hill to street level. The bench was different from the crude types that had been installed in a few places many years ago. And this one had a plaque on it in memory of someone. I realized who that someone was, with shock. A genial, past-middle-age man who we used to greet in passing on occasion in the summer months when we'd venture out on early mornings to avoid afternoon heat.

We knew him by reputation, as someone who seriously practised civic altruism. Not a dog owner himself, he had established garbage bins at every entrance to the ravine throughout the larger community, for dog droppings to be deposited. He bought garbage bags and weekly collected the full ones, placed out new ones, and hauled the full ones to the street curbs for collection on garbage days. Since garbage collection days varied with the locations in a spread-out community, he had daily chores, to maintain his schedule.

 

Once, years ago, one of the regular hikers through the ravine, who had three dogs of their own, notified the community by email and notes placed in the ravine that they were taking up a collection to express gratitude for this man's tireless efforts on behalf of the dog-walking community. That was so long ago I don't even recall what the gift was, but the giftee demurred while thanking us all.

About five years ago we had heard he wasn't well. Others stepped forward to continue his gift to the community at large and collections continued of dog waste to keep the trails as free of waste-detritus as possible. Obviously, the cancer he was diagnosed with took the life of this generous man. And it felt to  us like a shock in the otherwise-tranquil setting. A mood of sadness and regret is inevitable under such circumstances. And then of course, you carry on...

 

With rare exceptions I absolutely detest telephone calls ringing in of a morning. And this morning was one of those. First a call from the dentist's office offering an earlier appointment for teeth-cleaning than was scheduled, and Irving accepted. Then a call from the Hearing Aid office that my appointment with the audiologist was bumped forward a half hour tomorrow afternoon. Finally, a call from the medical clinic from our family physicians' home-visiting nursing teams comprised of a nurse-practitioner and a registered nurse, wanting to know whether I had been keeping track of my blood pressure, asking for the values of the last five tests I'd taken.

 

And then, following hard on those telephone calls, the doorbell rang and Jackie and Jillie went into guardian action. It was a young woman 'selling' a refurbishing driveway service. And it turned out she was representing a student group that we had hired last year and the really professional work they had done of spraying the driveway quite impressed us. So we agreed to have it done again.

 

 

Our neighbour Melanie across the street was first, and we were second. The young people doing the work; this time a young man and a young woman -- to be joined eventually by a third young man, fully equipped with professional gear, set to work. Clearing away any weeds that had established themselves in  driveway cracks, cleaning up areas where garden soil slopped over from the gardens onto the driveway surface, making is easier for the garden vegetation to spread beyond its limits. Finally vacuuming up any detritus before spraying.

 

That preparatory work took them hours. I was cleaning the  house, but took long enough to compel them to stop and seat themselves in the garden nook. Then I took out a chilled bottle of Cranberry juice, drinking glasses, and individual fruit-flavoured yoghurt cups with spoons and told them to relax. They had been working like demons, on a 30C-degree day in the full sun. They were happy to oblige and I was satisfied to see them relax. 

 

When I finished washing the floors, out came Jackie and Jillie with me to saunter briefly around the backyard while I snipped a generous amount of chives to include in a potato salad I had planned for today. Earlier, I had boiled Yukon Gold potatoes and a few eggs. To the cubed potatoes I added chopped celery, green onion, snow peas, bell pepper and chives. I prepared a dressing of salt, pepper, cider vinegar, olive oil and mayonnaise. Some of the dressing was used on a tin of tuna meant to top the potato salad which was turned out over chopped lettuce into a bowl. 

Jackie and Jillie were constantly at my feet in the kitchen, drawn by the sound of chopping vegetables and the irresistible aroma of fresh vegetables entreating me to share some of the goodies with them. So I prepared an early salad treat for them, while I was working on our potato salad. Finally, we were ready to venture out for a ravine hike, speculating just how hot it might be with the  temperature flirting with 30C. As soon as we got into the shade of the forest canopy, and felt a quite brisk wind, we knew our tramp through the woods would be without discomfort.

 

The wind kept insects down, and the forest canopy ensured we weren't roasted in the sun, making the heat and humidity quite tolerable. We hadn't seen little CoCo for ages, and then suddenly, there she was, probing the opportunity for appealing to Irving for dog cookies. We had a brief reunion with CoCo's person, and then came across one of the original people we had met through the ravine over 30 years ago. She was just a young woman back then, newly married, with a dog she named 'crook' describing the crook in his tail. And then came three children, first two girls, then a son. Her husband rarely walked with her. Once, away back then in the winter, we had seen him zipping through the snowy trails with a snowmobile. There was no repeat.

Back  home once again, Irving took a little snooze. His day had been busy too, starting with mowing the back lawn after breakfast, then doing the house vacuuming while I dusted, and then washed the floors.

Jackie and Jillie were beyond puzzled; no salad as usual for them on our return from the forest trails. Habit is hard to change, but their earlier-than-usual salad before we had set out for our hike, nixed them for a salad after the hike. They finally gave up in disappointed resignation, and snuggled up to Irving for a group nap.

 

It's been two days now that we haven't had any rain. Although we didn't mind the rain, we don't mind either that it has stopped. We were amazed at the ongoing heavy downpours and clapping thunderstorms. But there were intervals when the rain did hesitate at times and we dashed out for short circuits wearing rainjackets, with Jackie and Jillie. Twice we were caught in the rain. Once, the rain was light enough that the forest canopy kept us fairly dry. The second time it was another story. But that too we didn't mind.

 

On those days, despite the heavy overcast conditions there were brief moments when the sun appeared, even giving us glimpses of its warming presence during light rain events. Yet even though the rain has been quiescent the last several days, the sun has become elusive. And it's been cool, as well. We've gone from 30C+ last week to 13C this week. Today the temperature struggled up to 20C, but without the sun it felt fairly cool.

 

Cool enough to warrant light jackets, although we only carried rainjackets for the puppies, rather than burden them with wearing them in mere anticipation of rain. On these days with the cooler conditions, overcast and windy, we haven't seen many other people out trekking the forest trails. But yesterday and today, an adorable little pug we see on occasion, hearing Jillie's barking came rushing over off another trail to await cookies.

 

The thimbleberry bushes are now getting into full bloom, and the flowers really are beautiful, pastel pink and some verging toward hot pink. Already where the blossoms have faded, we can see the fruit beginning to form. As with the hazelnut shrubs; their post-bloom nuts are in the formation stage, and judging by observation of previous years, long before they're fully formed the forest squirrels will have enjoyed them.

 

The Jack-in-the-Pulpit flowerheads are beginning to fade. We're accustomed to the vegetation having its day, then fading, but when on occasion we come across an animal of some kind that has seen better days, it somehow seems more meaningful, and an aura of sadness settles over us. Today it was a bumblebee, slowly making its way across the forest floor; its days of flight obviously over. We watched its pitiful progress briefly, and moved on once it managed to pass over into the vegetation beside the trail.

 

When we got back home, I decided to stay out awhile, after cutting up their after-forest salads for Jackie and Jillie. Anticipating that treat they run amok through the house, chasing one another and vocalizing in a rhapsody of expectation. They make quick work of the snap peas, cucumber, bell pepper and grape tomatoes. Once each of them has finished, leaving tiny bits in their bowls, they switch, each going to the other's bowl to lap up whatever is left there.

That's when I went out to the backyard with a compost bag, to snip off the spent wands of the irises; it's the turn of the day lilies and Stella d'oro now. And though most of the peonies are fading, others are just maturing their blooms, as are the roses. I cut back some dead branches of the Purple Smoke tree, that has been so slow in leafing out this year, but couldn't reach some of the taller ones, so I left them for Irving to do.

 

At that point in the late afternoon the sun decided to come out, after all. The garden pots could use some drying-out. The flowering annuals are beginning to look slightly stressed from all the rain. Likely their roots need some relief. I had tidied up in the garden at the front of the house on Saturday, not that it won't be long before the same exercise will be in repeat in a few days' time. It was mostly the walkways at the front that needed cleaning up after the storms had blasted foliage off the trees standing above the gardens. But doing that does give one a sense of accomplishment when the gardens look a trifle more neat and looked after, before everything runs amok again.

 

In my enthusiasm to bake a cherry pie, I pitted so many cherries I ended up with more filling than a small-capacity pie-dish could hold. Cherries were on sale when we'd gone shopping earlier in the week, at a very attractive $2.95-lb, so I just poured the bag into a sieve and began pitting the cherries yesterday morning. The filling was much too generous for the 8-inch pie dish I prefer using just for the two of us, and a 10-inch pie dish went into service when I prepared the pie dough.

The finished pie would have made 6 ample slices; instead the pie was cut into four pieces, and Irving and I made quick work of our servings, setting aside the other half of the pie for a dessert in several days' time. An indulgence of ample proportions. The pie was excellent; its filling comprised of the halved cherries, sugar, cornstarch and cranberry juice set to simmer until thick, adding butter and almond essence, was delicious. And we were well and truly stuffed.

Yesterday was a day of torrential rain events and a few prolonged, violent thunderstorms. We had managed to get out in a brief lull before breakfast, the rain resuming the minute we arrived back home. The garden was absolutely drenched. Just as the forest, in our trek through a short circuit, was a brilliant emerald-green, lacquered by the rain, so was the garden; roses and peonies in particular brought low by the weight of the water on their blossoming flower heads.

In the ravine, rainwater mixed with the clay scrubbed up from the creek bottom, rushed downstream, a maelstrom of water thrashing over the rapids, carrying with it fallen debris from overhanging trees. Everything looked brightly burnished, although the sky was heavy with clouds awaiting the opportunity to deluge the landscape below anew. We could hardly believe we'd been able to catch a brief hike despite the live threat of thunder.

Today, more rain, and plenty of it. The temperature had cooled down enormously from its series of 30C successive days. Early in the afternoon, despite dark clouds overhead, a brief lull of sun smiling through cracks in the prevailing clouds persuaded us we might be able to enjoy another brief run through the forest trails. Once more, the creek roared by us hauling branches and other woody detritus whooshing downstream. We heard a murder of crows not far off, and assumed they were harassing an owl.

When we reached the ravine heights from whence the sounds came we could see the crows crowding the sky, but try as we might, couldn't see the location of the owl in the trees soaring above us. We did have a visitor of a more domesticated variety, delighting Jackie and Jillie no end at the extra opportunity for cookie handouts.

When we had left the house there was a light shower in progress, light enough that the forest canopy would keep us dry. We wore rainjackets and two little rainjackets for Jackie and Jillie were stuffed into one of my pockets. We'd gone three-quarters of the short circuit we were on when the atmosphere grew darker and a heavy rain dispelled any notion we might escape a soaker. On went the puppies' raincoats and on we went, the clay base of the trails running with rain.

Despite their little raincoats, Jackie and Jillie were pretty soaked by the time we got them into the house. Out came their towels for a much-needed rubdown. As much as they detest getting caught out in the rain and coming away dripping water, they love the attention the towelling gives them as their little snouts and ears get smothered with the soft towels and they revel in being carefully rubbed dry.

And then they run through the house like little demented goats in anticipation of their usual afternoon snack consisting of fresh vegetables; cucumber, snap peas, bell pepper and grape tomatoes cut up into a little salad for them. They can hardly contain their excitement, leaping around me until their bowls are deposited on the floor; pink for Jillie, blue for Jackie, little bowls with immovable rubber bases.

 

 

Little wonder we equate summer with spontaneity, when we are able on the spur of the moment to do anything in the outdoors we enjoy without necessary advance preparations to face the weather. Today, yet another warm, breezy and sunny day. The backyard inviting us to mosey about, looking at the gardens, admiring whatever has most recently gone into bloom. For their part, Jackie and Jillie busying themselves sniffing about for the irresistible scents of the rabbits. 

 

 

The bearded irises are now in flower, so are the Mountain Bluet, the bleeding hearts, and the Ladies Mantle in the rock garden. And surprise, one of our oldest climbing roses has also started to bloom. Then there's the lovely shade of pastel orange of a peony which has finally decided to flower this spring, the first time ever in its four-year residence in the garden. Jackie and Jillie may be engrossed in sniffing out the presence of squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits, but I'm enthralled with the sight of nature's generosity of flowers.

 

Irving planned to barbecue chicken drumsticks for dinner tonight, so I thought that coleslaw would accompany them very nicely, and shredded cabbage, carrot, sliced onion and dried cranberries into a salad we could enjoy later on today, with a piquant dressing including apple cider. 

 

We set off relatively early in the afternoon for our quotidian tryst in the forest hoping that the breeze would keep the mosquitoes down to a manageable level. The robins are really enjoying this weather in the ravine. At this time of spring we always see robins scurrying about on the forest floor for whatever reason for an avian species they find bipedalism appealing at this time of year, but it's a kind of robin-ritual we've been long familiar with.

 

Jackie and Jillie don't even find it in them to chase the robins any longer; they're as accustomed to seeing them on the trails and beyond now, as we are. Their songs followed us, adding yet another melodic note of serene pleasure to our outing. We also saw the yellow flash of warblers in flight around the forest creek. And adjacent one of the trails, we watched as a Hairy woodpecker flitted from tree to tree until one tree trunk satisfied its search.

 

As we once again approached the creek on our way doubling back on the circuit we had chosen for the day, we came again across the one clump of wildflowers we now know as an invasive species, to be found in the forest as far as we could see. Growing just above the creek on its bank, the oddest 'aquatic' group of beautiful yellow irises we've ever seen. They have a reputation for aggressiveness in pushing out native vegetation, yet evidently though we've never seen them before last year, never even imagined their existence, there is but a single clump.

 

Himalayan orchids, another invasive Asian species on the other hand, really are aggressive in their habit, and we've seen them proliferating in parts of the forest for years, now being challenged, their presence much diminished since the appearance of fast-spreading thimbleberry shrubs (purple raspberry) that have in their turn colonized the area fast being vacated by the orchids.