Jackie and Jillie certainly have selective memories. It's Sunday and they know what's for breakfast. We're all creatures of habit and things fall into place in the sense that certain routines are expected to occur at certain times; it just makes life simpler. They were expecting their treat, one of their favourites. Jillie ate her breakfast this morning, but Jackie turned up his nose -- literally -- at his, although the kibble was made a little more enticing with bits of breakfast melon chopped into it, along with cooked chicken left over from Friday. 

 

He was holding out for pancakes and sausages. He leapt up on the settle in the breakfast room, craning his head around to the stove where I was flipping pancakes, awaiting his treat. His sister sat patiently at my feet, emitting that barely perceptible whine that she reserves for anxiously awaiting special edible treats. Finally after being presented with their treats, Jackie turned his attention to his breakfast and finished it off.

 

 

Today was supposed to be a more leisurely day of rest than yesterday proved to be. Sunny, windy and cold, it was a perfect day to work in the garden to complete winterizing it. Cutting back the last of the hostas, those beautiful plants that look after themselves all summer, but come fall get cut back so when spring eventually returns they're ready to begin growing anew. We've got so many hostas, many of them decades and decades old, and they're huge. It's quite a job winterizing them. Unlike the heucheras that often keep them company that need no attention.

 

The garden pots and urns needed to be emptied of the soil that annuals grew beautifully in all summer. Wheelbarrows full of good soil were taken to the backyard to be smoothed over the garden beds there. Come spring fresh composted soil will fill the pots and urns so that freshly-grown annuals will get a good start for their summer-long flowering.

 

 

Fall garden preparations mean that garden statuary, the urns and the garden pots need winter protection. The next step was to cover them all with a protective plastic sheeting secured by bunjies against snow, freezing and thawing, icy conditions and rampant wind. That was done today, and once it was completed, it was time to meet the weather. A cold day of 8C, sharp wind and heavily overcast; jackets in order for everyone, and off we went for a foray through the forest trails in the ravine.

 

 

The autumn colour has just about spent itself at this point. By early November -- just around the corner -- all the deciduous trees will have shed their foliage. There's very few leaves actually left on the maple, birch, poplar and willow trees, although the beech leaves are still clinging to the trees as are the oak and sumac. The beech leaves are a bright bronze, and the sumac foliage brilliant orange-reds.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie have a penchant for running far ahead of us, although they frequently look back to ensure we're still in sight, for the most part. We usually remove their leashes as soon as we enter the trailhead up the street from our house. Most days we pretty well have the trails to ourselves, but for the past few weeks, others within the larger community have been coming out for at least one tour of the fall woods. Those who avert their heads as they come abreast of other hikers and who cannot extend an acknowledgement of the presence of others don't add much to the experience of a shared appreciation of nature.

 

 

 

 

The reality that this day turned out cold and overcast completely failed to persuade greater area residents that it wouldn't be an ideal day to go out to the urban forest within our community enclave. We thought that yesterday the forest trails were 'crowded' with people coming out to view the fall colours. Well, Sunday turned out to be even more thronged with people, with quite a few family groups out with small children. And dogs. Jackie and Jillie, reading over my shoulder wanted to remind me not overlook the presence of dogs, large and small, familiar and unfamiliar, this day.

After all, this day is a Sunday, a day of relaxation and leisure, that absolutely calls out to be useful to both concepts. Moreover, it's autumn and anyone knows that forests in Ontario at this time of year become scenes of great beauty. At the same time, parents want to introduce their children to the anomaly of a unique, wide-spread geological anomaly in what is essentially an urban neighbourhood, so children can see for themselves that the sidewalks and road traffic and neat arrays of houses that they're most familiar with have a natural counterpart where none of these things are present.

In a place where birds flit about singing and small furry creatures are busy foraging, and trees, some venerable giants, and others striplings, alongside wild fruit trees and shrubs grow in their natural habitat, quite unlike a garden but with some similarities in the presence of wildflowers. Some children are there reluctantly, others eager to explore the peculiar landscape so unfamiliar to them.

Their presence can be uplifting, can be amusing and can quite as easily be irritating when shouting and whining and the sounds of sticks knocking foliage off understory shrubs and immature trees resound. The quality of restfulness and silence are banished in the presence of voluble, excitable children who prefer chasing one another through the forest trails and throwing clods of foliage or twigs at each other, to contemplating nature. It is the chaos of childhood at play.

Of course, some people could justifiably take umbrage at the presence of small dogs with a tendency to bark constantly, irritatingly, at the presence of other dogs in shrill protests at their appearance at a site more familiar to them as their very private precinct where none others are given permission to intrude.

We wore warmer jackets against the penetrating cold of the day, and gloves, and had dressed Jackie and Jillie in their raincoats just in case the sky decided to open up to rain clouds. The forest interior's dusky atmosphere with no sun to relieve either the  temperature or the relative darkness did not convince us that rain was imminent until we had gone most of the way through our circuit for the day and it became quite dark.

Jackie and Jillie were focused on all the dogs they kept coming across, dogs of all sizes and breeds, including a pair of Olde English Sheepdogs, as cuddly looking as can be imagined for two large-breed dogs, quietly well-behaved in comparison to our two puppies' raucous manner. Soon after we had crossed the path of the two sheepdogs, dusk became more intense and finally rain began trickling down.

So the raincoats were the right choice after all.