These have been days of late as perfect as can be fantasized about for spring. Let's start with the weather; days of sunshine, even those days when it has also rained. April gave us ample rain and May entered continuing the formula of rain and sun, the most appealing combination to convince all green growing things to manifest themselves, leave their winter underground abode for the opportunity to thrill the gardener or the wildflower enthusiast.

 

The appeal of yesterday's just-perfect weather saw us out good and early, catering both to Jackie and Jillie, and to our own need of communing with nature. Nature reciprocated as generously as ever she does. An abundance of coltsfoot are still in evidence, although the earliest blooming ones are now going to seed, just as dandelions do, changing their head-dress from a bright yellow halo, centred with orange, to a fluffy-white nimbus.

 

There are ferns popping up everywhere on the hillsides and the lower reaches of the forest floor, unfurling in that old familiar curlicue that bespeaks the presence of green-bitter edible fiddleheads. Along with the ferns the trout lilies are now in full bloom, colonizing the forest with their delicate nodding heads of soft golden petals.

 

 

As we hiked uphill and down, through the forest on various winding and interconnecting trails, we heard owls and cardinals praising that beautiful day. The cardinals in a paean of appreciation,the owls having a back-and-forth conversation. Now and again we'd be met by one or another, or sometimes several at a time, neighbourhood dogs out with their companions enjoying the day. One by one, or two by two, stopping beside us for the Cookie Man to react as anticipated.

Before we left the forest, on one of the upper trails we discovered a newly-emerged garter snake, perfectly positioned to catch the rays of the sun, warming itself after its long, cold and damp winter hibernation under the soil and leafmass of the forest floor. Jackie and Jillie usually don't notice snakes, but this time they did, and were curious. The little reptile partially lifted its head, opened its jaw menacingly (hah!) and they stepped back, curious but cautious.

 

Later, we two went off for the second time in as many days, to a local plant nursery to see what we could see. What we saw was the rapturous sight of rows upon rows of colourful plants begging to be taken home, knowing how much our garden yearns to welcome them. The day previously we came home with begonias and zinnias and million bells and lobelias and chrysanthemums, prepared to leave them in the garden shed should the weather turn cold again.

And yesterday another adventure in selecting plants had us consulting each other and making careful choices, both perennial and annual; more begonias to be sure, Canna lilies and Shasta daisies and a cornucopia of fillers, fulfilling our ambition to be prepared to plant in a week or so hence. Oh, the heady experience of walking through a greenhouse, the overwhelming sensuality of the sweet fragrance of the blooms!

 

Twenty years ago when Irving rebuilt our deck after the original began to rot -- even though the house builder that had included the deck had used British Columbia cedar and we expected it to last for a long time -- we didn't imagine that the time would come that some of the boards of the later rebuilt deck would begin to show signs of wear, given that every spring Irving treats the wood with preservative stain. He tried various methods of removing the special hardened spiral screws he used when putting the second deck together, but they're stubborn.

There are two boards that need to be replaced. It isn't anything like an emergency; just that on two boards there are signs of the wood beginning to rot. Irving doesn't like to leave things. He bought a special tool that was advertised as perfect for removing really tough screws, but it was useless. Irving is nothing if not resourceful; he thought of various methods he could use, but none worked. Finally he did the simplest but most energy/work-intensive thing and removed all the screws finally for one of the boards. It took him hours.

 

He plans tomorrow to tackle the second board. He already has the replacement boards and the task of replacing them will be far simpler than that of removing the two originals. In the meantime, though it's a brisker, cooler day than the last several we've had, it's also been sunny today. We had really hard winds, though, enough to bring down whatever was left of the colourful foliage in the forest.

We went out with Jackie and Jillie earlier in the afternoon, and now it truly is a forest bereft of its foliage, all sprinkled liberally on the forest floor. Thank heavens there's such a mix of hardwood and softwood in the forest; the conifers' green needles offer relief from approaching November's sere landscape of shades of black-and-grey until the snow begins flying. The wind and the sun made a start on drying out the forest from its inundations of previous days, making negotiating some of the clay-slick terrain somewhat easier.

 

When we finally returned from our forest idyll, I went back out after giving the puppies their obligatory salad, to make use of the kind weather in continuing the garden clean-up. Apart from sweeping up the fallen foliage and other detritus from the walkways, removing many of the annuals from the flowerbeds made for some pretty heavy compost bags, even when knocking loose dirt off the plant roots.

From the front gardens I made my way to the backyard. I had left most of the flowering annuals that still appeared fresh and contented to bloom, so the garden isn't completely without colour, in the knowledge that nights to come will be giving us some hard frosts that will challenge those annuals still left. In the backyard there was ample to do, moving from the various flower beds to the rock garden, cutting back hostas, rose canes and other perennials. Sad to see them all go.

 

When we headed off into the ravine early this afternoon there was a light breeze complementing a clear sky with the sun hard at work warming the atmosphere. It was only 17C when we came down for breakfast, but by the time we left for our hike through the forest trails the thermometer read 25C. Irving had gone out after breakfast to mow the grass in the backyard, then he did the same in the front garden. That warmed him up pretty quickly.

 

The sun glancing off the forest canopy sending its filtered light below occasionally had the opportunity to inform us just how warm it can make things, any time we briefly passed an area where the canopy receded, the light brilliant enough to to dazzle momentarily. The fragrance of still-blooming ragweed continues to perfume the air. All the forest vegetation has outdone itself this summer of incessant rain events.

 

Still, it appears we're getting a temporary break from rain. This long Labour Day weekend is introducing us to a week of unusually warm weather for this time of year. This is the time of year where trees are still firmly dark green, but the occasionally autumn-coloured leaf can be seen to detach from a tree branch and slowly whirl its way downward. In the next few weeks that annual pilgrimage from tree to forest floor will accelerate until the time comes when we'll swish through piles of acrid, drying foliage littering the ground.

 

For now, however, wildflowers are still blooming in abundance, the bees, hoverflies, wasps and other flying creatures are harvesting what they can and there's a noticeable pick-up in the sighting of squirrels and chipmunks beginning their winter preparations, storing and hoarding seeds and cones, answering to the survival imperative.

 

When we returned from our forest circuit it was my turn to work in the garden, just a bit of tidying and cutting back errant growth of trees and shrubs. And then watering the gardens and the garden pots, Jackie and Jillie watching me from inside the front door, occasionally letting me know they're there with a few barks as they supervise my activities.

Irving is busy packing, and loading up the truck. And away we'll go! It's likely too early to see fall colours yet, but we'll be in the mountains, and things turn earlier there, so we'll see...

 

Summer has entered in grand style bringing with her ample heat, and sun, breezes and humidity; all the hallmarks of her famous attributes, all of which we yearn for during the long winter months. With that heat and humidity, a kind of sense of lassitude sets in, even Jackie and Jillie feel lethargic, more inclined to loafing than living. Early enough in the morning they're receptive to going out to the backyard to loaf there while I putter about pulling weeds and assessing what needs to be staked and what has just emerged.

 

Early this afternoon a serviceperson came by from the municipality. We had been advised several weeks ago that the city was in the process of changing water meters in houses, and were given an appointment date. We were informed that our water would be shut off for up to three hours; a dismal prospect. As matters turned out, the person who arrived took no time at all. He was no more than 30 minutes at the changing of the meter and since in our house there were valves at the meter there was no need to turn the water off entirely.

 

Later in the afternoon it was time for our ravine stroll through the forest trails. With the heat buildup, even with a good steady breeze, it felt hot enough to recklessly wear shorts and a sleeveless top; that was me, Irving sensibly wore a long-sleeved light cotton shirt. Luck was with us, the breeze kept mosquitoes at bay and we were able to enjoy our foray through the trails without the necessity to slap them off.

 

It was very warm though despite the relief given us by the forest canopy, blocking and filtering out the sun's rays. So we took our time, enjoying every minute, looking about us at one landscape after another, familiar and dear to us, each turn of the trail bringing us to another aspect of the forest each with their unique features.

 

We wound up our circuit with a meander through the forest pollinating meadow. Daisies, fleabane, clover and thimbleberries all in flower. We even noted a proliferation of milkweed beginning to go into their flowering stage, but no butterflies. There were bees though, on the thimbleberry blossoms so the meadow serves its purpose and eventually the butterflies will arrive. 

 

Back home again, back out to the garden again, to do a little more weeding, and watering and just to enjoy the privilege of having so many beautiful plants around us, their colour and forms sending gentle kisses to our hungry eyes. We're forever astonished at the capacity of plants to grow so quickly when the right conditions prevail. Each year we tell ourselves that everything is flowering and maturing earlier than usual.

That settles it, that old ant colony that has steadily interfered with one of our garden beds over the last few summers will really have to go. One by one its inhabitants have managed to destroy the annuals I've planted in their nearby vicinity. I thought that by keeping the area directly adjacent their immediate nest, they might return the compliment and respect the right to live of the plants surrounding it, but it's not to be, it seems.

They're due a treatment. One that will work. I've tried baking soda/sugar, but haven't noticed it's made any difference. Mostly, no doubt, because of the sheer volume of the colony inhabitants and the fact that each time I've applied it, there's been rain shortly afterward. Well, it seems we'll have to wait before applying the commercial product we bought, since the week's forecast is for one day of rain after another. The product is diatomaceous earth, non-toxic, not chemical, but presumably lethal to soft-bodied creatures. 

It's sad, in a way, since ants are for the most part industrious creatures and but for carpenter ants and those who destroy crops and are known to be pests like fire ants that exist elsewhere, have a right to their place in the ecosystem. Just not in my garden. Or, for that matter, in our homes. Irving hates to destroy the lives of insects and will instead remove any that might enter, from the house.

A day of high humidity, heavy overcast, light wind and cooler temperatures. Perfect for working in the garden. But since rain was forecasted, and we could actually sense it, we thought a ravine tramp with Jackie and Jillie should be the first order of business early this afternoon. We did linger in the garden briefly before setting off. Long enough to appreciate the appearance of the Siberian irises which had bloomed weeks earlier in the backyard.

And to watch as bees made love to the growing patch of Mountain Bluet in the garden on the front lawn, flitting from flower to flower, relieving them of pollen. For many years there was a beehive in a hollow of one of the largest old pines in the ravine. One winter, a pair of black squirrels decided to inhabit the nest. We discovered hundreds of dead bees scattered on the snow in front of the pine, and we speculated that the bees, hibernating during the winter cold, were tossed out of their hive by the squirrels who took over the nest for the next two winter seasons.

There's more than ample to keep bees busy in the ravine, with wildflowers and flowering fruit shrubs in full array now, from raspberry canes to thimbleberry shrubs. The thimbleberries bloom later than the raspberries, but they ripen into sweet fruit in the opposite order. The large, bright pink blooms of the thimbleberries catch the eye, calling out for notice.

It's also hard not to notice large patches of Oxeye daisies now in bloom in the forest, mostly along the banks of the creek, in the pollinating meadow and alongside the trails. They and the fleabane with its much smaller flower heads in pale pink not white like the daisies, both have yellow centres.

Jackie and Jillie had their usual run-abouts along the trails, alternating with poking about off-trail on the ravine slopes, sniffing out interesting objects and substances that never fail to capture their olfactory curiosity. If one finds something truly interesting, the other will be quick joining in. There are times when their interests are completely innocent and other times when intervention is required. Without doubt our two little dogs share the opinion that their humans are peculiarly inclined.

 

Since this abnormally early and widespread wildfire season broke out first in Alberta, then over the entire country, with nine provinces and two territories all in the throes of wildfires, Canada has asked for and welcomed the presence of firefighters from a wide range of countries; France, Spain, Portugal, Costa Rica, United States, South Africa, and more. Hundreds of firefighters have arrived in Canada from countries whose own wildfire seasons have not yet created domestic emergencies, to give aid to this country in extinguishing those fires that can be controlled.

 

 

The fires in Alberta and in British Columbia have somewhat diminished in number though they're still in the hundreds with fifty percent uncontrolled, requiring hard, dedicated work on the part of fire crews to keep communities safe, while having to inform residents in others that because of imminent fire danger they must evacuate. It is not a happy time to be living in isolated forested areas. As an exception, Nova Scotia's capital, Halifax, has seen wildfires threaten the security of homes in suburban areas not far from the city.

 

Although Ontario has had to cope with its own outbreak of wildfires, it is in northern Quebec where out-of-control wildfires have sent a heavy pall of smoke and accompanying windborne particulate matter over the eastern seaboard of the United States, now and for the past several weeks grappling with smoke-fog and dangerously poor air quality that is certain to affect the lungs of people already health- compromised, not to mention otherwise healthy people.

 

In the first week of the fires' breakout we were very conscious of the acrid odour of burning forests, and we could readily see a haze, as well as the sky and sun bearing bright orange-yellow shades as a result of atmospheric smoke. Then our atmosphere appeared to clear, the burning odour no longer in evidence, much less any haze; wind had shifted all that away from us, even though we were closer to the source of the fires than areas across the U.S. now steeped in particulate matter.

 

Now, our air quality has begun to suffer once again; unhealthy air conditions have returned, as has that acrid odour. Not as evident as elsewhere, not yet, but pollution as a result of the forest fires is impacting us once again. Advice from Environment Canada is to spend as little time out-of-doors as possible. But this morning was warm and comfortable, the sun was out, a cooling breeze in evidence, an entirely beautiful late spring day. 

By mid-afternoon, it was still beautiful; we couldn't detect any haze, though we could smell the fires, and we decided we wouldn't be deterred from our usual hike through the forest trails with the puppies, even if we decided to take a shorter route. And that's just what we did. We took our time, leisurely trekking a shorter circuit, and enjoyed every minute of it.

 

And on our return sat in the garden awhile. We had stopped at the group mailbox to pick up our mail, and sitting in the shade in the garden, overlooked by the green canopy of our trees, our eyes entertained by the gorgeous display of flowers, just being there, sitting there, comfortable and relaxed was one of life's great pleasures. One temporarily denied to the dedicated men and women firefighters who risk their very lives in one of the most dangerous enterprises in the world, attempting to control nature's excesses.

We were invited by Jackie and Jillie to spend a short while in the backyard with them early this morning before planning the day ahead. The garden beds and borders are thick with flowering perennials, from roses to peonies, Cranesbill geraniums to mountain bluet, with our many hostas and heucheras filling in the spaces and flower buds already appearing on the varied flowering vines. 

After yesterday's cool temperature, dark atmosphere and all-day rain, a delightfully warm and sunny day  appeared this morning, and we thought that since the forecast alerted us to the potential for more rain for this afternoon, it might be a good idea to get out for our hike through the ravine early, say before breakfast. Since Jackie and Jillie were in complete agreement, that's just what we did.

The change in the weather pleased the birds in the forest, they greeted us with musical enthusiasm, their trills identifying them as mostly robins, a small flock of juveniles that we saw later flirting with the creek as we trekked along. A forest in its full green finery, the lilting songs of birds, free movement of your limbs in an air-scrubbed atmosphere, could there be anything finer to start the proceedings of the day to come?

Jackie and Jillie didn't think so, their enthusiasm glowed with the promise of a long yet leisurely circuit. An enthusiasm that included, by force of habit, anticipation of cookie-goodies doled out to them at points in the circuit they identify unerringly. Of course, they hadn't eaten any breakfast, just as we too held off in favour of trek first, shower and breakfast later. They opt to skip the shower. They had all the 'shower' they could tolerate two days earlier at the groomer's.

We spotted hawkweed blooming for the first time this summer, along with fleabane, bright pink flower heads of clover, buttercups, daisies, and among them the to-be-avoided-skin-contact-with wild parsnip. Red baneberry is now setting its clutch of berries, still bright dark green, soon to become bright red, visually appealing but poisonous. False Solomon's seal is doing the same. Copious numbers of bright white blackberry flowers proclaim their summer intention of producing ripe, juicy, sweet berries, as do the bright pink blooms of the thimbleberry shrubs.

We ended up taking a long, involved circuit since it was early morning. We had heard on the radio before departing a warning of poor air quality,but it wasn't until we returned home hours later that we could smell the acrid warning of the air pollution wafting over us, though we saw no haze indicative of the particulate matter that turns fresh air into lung-nasty threats.

After our of-necessity-late breakfast it was back to the backyard again, this time for a little work. A bit of weeding, and then the serious business of mowing the grass. Jackie and Jillie have an antagonistic approach to mechanized machinery that tend to make a lot of noise. Perhaps they view that sound as competition for their own frantic barking and there was plenty of it as they confronted the backyard interloper.

It's a dog-eared, much-read and valued paperback entrusted temporarily to my care until such time as I read it and handed it back to its owner; Terry Pratchett's 'Small Gods'. It's taken me a while to get around to reading it, since most of my reading material is non-fiction. But I thought I needed a rest from some of the cerebrally-weighty stuff I'd been reading, and 'Small Gods' it was. It doesn't belong to our granddaughter, a passionate lover of novels, since a book in that condition would never be permitted to share space with the pristine collection she adores.

Her two uncles, our sons, collected all of the Pratchett books just as when they were much younger it was the Monty Python group they followed and acclaimed. The book is light reading on the surface, but it has a deeper, darker message delivered with canny wit and a deep observation of human nature. It's the kind of mind that could write such a book, hilarious and sober at the same time, you'd enjoy being in close company with.

Irving, for his part, has been reviewing our library choices of Russian writers, most of which he's already read. Our reading material choices sometimes match and make our moods, and there are times when whatever he's reading I tell myself that's the next one for me. For the most part, this is the kind of reading we do before bedtime, in bed, and sometimes we read for at least an hour, sometimes we doze off in the throes of a reading stint.

This morning Jackie and Jillie were aware they were in for a special treat post-breakfast, sharing ours. Saturday and Sunday breakfasts are special for them. Their keen sense of smell informs them of the menu and they become excited, chasing one another around the house in eager anticipation. Irving thought it would be a good start to the day for us to have waffles again, so waffles it was. It's such a basic formula with so few ingredients. After our oranges and bananas to begin the day following the long fast from last night's meal.

After breakfast he went out to the front lawn to once again scatter soil, fertilizer and seed in yet another attempt to coax the grass to behave itself. We came out to visit with him from time to time, me taking a break from my house-interior preoccupations. Until finally all was done and Jackie and Jillie triumphantly led us over to the ravine for our daily afternoon ramble on the forest trails.

A warmish day, close with humidity and heavily overcast. Ramble was what we did, taking our time through the  trails, chatting with one another, pointing out new arrivals and departures. Lilies-of-the-valley are fading, joining the trilliums and jack-in-the-pulpits, while daisies, buttercups, fleabane and clover are in bright bloom. We saw only one thimbleberry blooming yesterday, and now there are many. The newly-discovered yellow-flag iris beckoned us on our way to the second bridge over the creek.

Before we knew it, our circuit for the day was completed and we were heading back up the hill to street level, then home again, to peruse the gardens and linger awhile to admire the bright, sunny faces of all the glorious flowering plants we've welcomed to share summer with us.