Today turned out yet another beautiful late-summer day. Considerably cooler than yesterday's 28C, with a good stiff wind, but although the morning remained overcast, that changed by afternoon and we were once again in full sun. We expected, when we set out for the ravine with our puppies in the early afternoon that the forest trails would be steeped deep in muck after last night's prolonged boom-and-light thunderstorm and the deluge that accompanied it, but such was not the case.

 

Yesterday was a fine day, but it was humid and steaming to go along with the full sun. We were relieved to finally get some rain. All the more so that it was such an enjoyable event; to hear the thunder claps, see the evening sky briefly alight and the rain slamming against the windows. We needed it, the landscape needed it, and we expected to view the results of it today. But no. The trails were still damp and muddy in places after the rain events of the previous week, but this rain of last night appeared to make no difference at all, but for our personal entertainment.

 

It complemented a delicious dinner; a fresh salad to begin, bookending a French onion soup with fresh raspberries. When I gave Irving a choice of cheese blintzes or onion soup, he snapped  up the soup. And I was happy to oblige. Jackie and Jillie don't think much of soup beyond chicken soup; we had it all to ourselves. As comfort food it can't be beat, though tonight's Shepherd pie will give it a run.

 

 

In the ravine we noticed that False Solomon's seal's berries were turning red. I'd never seen that before. Another oddity we came across that arrested our attention -- even Jackie and Jillie stopped briefly to give the little tableau a sniff -- but the bees involved, three of them were not to be distracted. At first we thought it was a huge single bee, beginning to expire. Closer inspection identified three bees and they were tightly clasping what appeared to be a caterpillar. Now that's a first for us. Not exactly a thrilling encounter; never is, seeing nature 'red in tooth and claw".

 

 

But in the day's peregrination, we also came across a few little dogs of our acquaintance.  And it's always a pleasure to see them. Irving always comes equipped to reward their expectant presence as they invariably settle down before him with beseeching eyes that only a heartless monster could ignore. Thrilling Jackie and Jillie no end as they claim their share of the treats, even though they've had more than enough to begin with.

 

 

Our walk through the trails was so pleasant we decided to double the length of the circuit we normally take, and so we did. There's always something different to see, things popping up you might not have noticed before. For our puppies an extended hike means more sniffing opportunities. For us, just the pleasure of walking along loose-limbed and foot-sure on terrain that may be familiar, but is forever changing in subtle ways provides a sense of balance to the day. 

 

We played one of Jackie and Jillie's favourite summertime games late this morning, when the sun came around to light up the deck. Jillie begins it, waiting at the sliding doors until she has been noticed, or emits a peremptory little bark to alert us that she's tired of being overlooked, so we can rush over to the breakfast room and let her out onto the deck. Once there, she contently splays herself on the floorboards so that the sun can reach as much of her warm little body as convenient to that sparkling orb. Jackie, finally noticing, decides he will join her and similarly exposes his belly to the sun, stretching his legs wide.

 

 

Needless to say, it take little time before the sun's heat overcomes their tolerance and they want to be let back into the house -- instantly, if not sooner. Once they cool back down to a normal temperature they're enticed once again by the sunlit deck to demand another exit. Two minutes later, back we go. And this can repeat until we decide the game is over and they readily agree.

 

When I asked Irving what he'd like for a baked treat today, he always reverses the question to ask what was I planning, or what would I like? Today, it didn't take him too long to respond differently. I had suggested lemon squares, and his rejoinder was 'sugar cookies'. They're the simplest of cookies, with not many ingredients, and he appreciates them more than any other type. So, sugar cookies it was. Basic ingredients of 2/3 c.butter, 3/4 c.granulated sugar, 2 tsp. vanilla, 2 large eggs, about 2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 2 tsp. baking powder, a scant 1/4 tsp.salt, and we're in business. Once I roll out the dough I sprinkle it lightly with sugar, draw the rolling pin across, then begin to cut out the cookie shapes. Elemental. Serve them with blueberries, I asked? Meh!

 

On such a beautiful day it's simply not possible to overlook the need to take Jackie and Jillie out for their daily stroll through the forest. At full sun and 25C, barely a whisper of wind, the warmth felt at street level doesn't quite approximate the comfort of striding a forest trail in the shade of the forest canopy. Along with that shade comes a quite marked diminished light. Where the light level of the unobstructed sun is brilliantly glaring, in the ravine's forest it becomes a dark shade of dusk.

 

The trails remain slightly mucky in many places, reflecting the amount of rain that has recently fallen. Like us, Jackie and Jillie have a tendency to skirt the wet areas, selecting the dry places that side the trails. It's there too, that the most interesting odours reside, where other dogs have been before them, leaving their marks on the vegetation of the forest floor, compelling Jackie and Jillie to head right for the liberally sprinkled plants and saplings.

 

Close to the banks of the creek, a new appearance of wildflowers. Actually feral flowers, I believe, but perhaps not. These are head-height and more, of yellow coneflowers, a newly established colony. In the previous few years we've seen them cropping up elsewhere along the creek banks. They're quite the impressive sight; their height alone draws  your attention. They look exactly the same as those we have growing by our back gate.

 

Before we arrived at the last bridge to take us up the last long hill to climb to street level, we came across two talkative little girls. We didn't see them at first, only an elderly woman standing at the edge of the trail, looking down at the creek, at the children. Jackie and Jillie drew close to the woman with her back turned toward them, and Jillie characteristically barked as though to ask who are you? The woman jumped, quickly turned, saw them and smiled. Ambushed. Soon her two granddaughters emerged from below.

I'd judge them to be about eight and six years of age, two round-faced, healthy and curious little girls who, seeing our pups wanted to play with them. They asked whether they could pet them, and of course they were told: if the pups were amenable, they're fairly skittish, I explained. Very much unlike his usual posture, Jackie submitted to to the two little girls' physical attention, while Jillie, to my surprise, since she's usually happy to accommodate being noticed, kept her distance and hid behind us to deflect the little girls' attention.

 

They explained they have two dogs of their own at home. One, a German Shepherd mix, the other a small-breed dog. The larger dog was quiet and well-behaved, they said, the other was suspicious and inclined to be hostile to other dogs and people, and noisy about it. From that rueful admission, an entire conversation was launched. Many children tend not to appreciate being taken to a forest to look about; these two were quite different. Pleased as they were to explore their unusual surroundings, and happy to be able to hold a conversation with others. Their easy and natural friendliness, like that of their grandmother, was beyond pleasurable...and unusual.

 

 

 

 

 

Neither of us can quite recall a summer like this one. We've had wet summer months before, of course, even a summer we can remember during our working lives when rain fell heavily on weekends, sparing weekdays when everyone was at work. We even had a summer about a dozen years ago that was wet enough to liquefy the Leda clay in the ravine to the extent that some of the hillsides simply melted away sending uprooted trees into the creek below. That occasioned a summer of remedial work to free up the creek since aside from being a natural water conduit for the forest, it is also used by the municipality as a storm-run-off for nearby communities.

 

 

All too many nights this summer we've heard the comfortable sound of rain pelting the house windows and on some occasions, booming thunder and lightning bolts jolting Jackie and Jillie out of their sleep. The night before was one of those occasions, and last night yet another. When we'd gone out for our afternoon hike through the forest trails yesterday it was cool enough despite the humidity to wear rainjackets and tuck the puppies' into our pockets 'just in case'.

 

 

Just-in-case failed to materialize and we enjoyed our trek even though rain seemed imminent. Today on our afternoon jaunt through the forest trails we were struck by the forest floor's accumulation of detritus, ranging from stout tree limbs, to bits of branches released by the ferocity of wind and rain the night before. Much warmer today than yesterday, though and where it was heavily overcast and threatening rain, today the sun appeared. Although the forest was suffused with an overabundance of rain, rays of sun penetrated the forest canopy.

 

 

We saw a small garter snake slither swiftly across the trail. A notable event, because we haven't seen any snakes this entire year. Usually, in early spring, they're ready to emerge from their winter dens and warm themselves in the heat of the sun on rocks or parts of the trail where the sun has an appearance. But not this year. One year we watched as a nest of hatchlings poured themselves out of their underground habitat to begin exploring their way into a snake's hidden life.

 

Jackie and Jillie seldom 'notice' snakes, even when they're on the move. They can pass by them with no indication they have recognized a life form, even though the slightest movement of a squirrel will send them into a frenzy of curiosity. Even robins running along the trail as they often do,  elicit their interest, but not snakes. They're accustomed to seeing rabbits, squirrels and the occasional raccoon in the backyard and they always react to their presence. Not sure what it is about snakes that escapes their notice.

 

 

It's the time of summer when asters begin to evince their presence. The early blooming asters are fairly spare in their presentation, not nearly as attractive and more akin to cultivated garden asters as the later ones tend to be, blooming in bright shades of pink and lavender. The early ones are undistinguished in pale mauve, yellow or cream with irregular petals. 

 

The Himalayan orchids on the other hand, are difficult to miss and a shame when they are. This year like the Queen Anne's lace and Pilotweed, they've assumed an incredible height, towering over us. There are also feral coneflowers popping up in limited colonies alongside the creek. The Thimbleberry shrubs have produced a good crop of ripe berries, but their time is coming to an end, while blackberries are now quickly ripening. Irving picks thimbleberries (purple raspberries) for Jackie and blackberries for Jillie; their preferences.

 

 

Everything is now ripening toward early fall. The feral hawthorn trees in the forest are festooned with bright red berries although the American bittersweet vines are still flowering. This year we've seen few baneberry plants, either white or red-berried, for some reason. Even very mature Jack-in-the-Pulpit produce red berries, in preparation for future Jacks to eventuate. 

 

 

That weather alert warning remains in place, although so has the sun, so far this afternoon. It's so pleasant here now, that on our return home it seemed like a good idea to just stay outside, seated in the garden, enjoying both the sun and a cooling breeze on a 26C day. Later, we discovered on the news that Toronto isn't enjoying much of this summer day with heavy rain and flooding. Heading our way? We'll soon enough know.  

 

It's a wonder the ground can actually absorb any more rainwater. Every time the heavens open up a deluge almost swallows the landscape. It's not just our area of course, but wider afield. On the other hand, we haven't been too 'inconvenienced' by the incessant rain events. When the clouds withdraw, out comes the sun, and that can happen multiple times during the day. In the final analysis, we're not short of sunshine and nor are we desperate for irrigation; a kind of balance has been achieved, but it's still excessive. 

 

 

The forecast for today, after Friday's all-day heavy rain and Saturday's bit-of-everything weather, was for mostly sun, albeit a cool day at 20C. Yet, even before we sat down to breakfast (melon halves and banana pancakes and sausages) a thunderstorm clapped and inundated our immediate vicinity. It was prolonged and rain-fierce. And I was glad that Jackie and Jillie had already been out twice by then in the backyard; no need to tongue-lash them into getting out in that rain to perform their daily 'ablutions'. 

 

 

In the morning and into the afternoon I'm always busy even on Sunday. We had planned for a traipse through the forest pathways as usual in the early afternoon. But then the house interior became dark again with the arrival of grey-streaked clouds that soon turned charcoal grey and another oncoming thunderstorm was heard in the near distance, finally closing the gap and letting loose over us. It rained and didn't it rain!!!

 

 

Once it was over the sun returned quickly, peeking through a curtain of remaining grey clouds. So we thought we'd make a dash for it, and try for a quick run through the forest. Ahem, we don't run, not at our age. We plunge into the ravine and take our time toddling along the trails. And so we did just that. Soon after our entry to the ravine, descending from street level and approaching the trail that runs alongside the forest creek, a largish bird swooped down to perch on a tree fairly close to our approach.

 

 

I whipped out my camera since this was an opportunity to get a shot of a hawk. Which sat there inclining its head in our direction as though contemplating our presence. Just as I was enlarging the view with the expectation of getting a close-up, off he flew. But from its size and contours we knew it for a hawk and were pleased to see it. I had to be satisfied with the photo I took, which still shows the hawk, albeit at a distance. We usually see sharp-shinned hawks whistling on the wind as they arrive in early spring.

 

 

The creek itself was tossing and turning in a turbulent display of rushing, roiling, muck-filled rainwater. It had reached spring runoff levels, and the sound of its rushing passage was notable. The water had risen partway up a portion of its banks, inundating the trunks of trees as the rain-swelled current carried all manner of detritus from the overhanging forest in its wake.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie, notorious for their meticulous avoidance of getting unnecessarily wet, paced carefully around the large, wide ponds of rainwater that had a regular post-rainfall presence on the forest trails. At the start of our hike, despite their familiarity with the forest in all kinds of weather conditions, they made it clear that this was their least favourite. The humidity and constant dripping from the forest canopy didn't endear them to the walk today.

 

But halfway through our passage through the forest they set aside their distaste at what the elements had wrought and began to lose themselves in the pleasure of sniffing about and wandering here and there to satisfy their curiosity, insatiable as it is. There was no one out from the wider community save for us, so in that sense we had the forest to ourselves. All the vegetation has been well irrigated and has grown to quite notable heights this year. The invasive Himalayan orchids and even pilotweed have zoomed upward to over six feet; quite impressive.

 

Back home again, we wandered through our gardens a short while before heading back into the house after ascertaining that nothing had really suffered under the ferocity of the rain accompanying that thunderous orchestration earlier in the day. And then, back in the kitchen, I set about preparing cheese blintzes for dinner for tonight, along with a salad and watermelon for dessert.