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.