What a gorgeous fall day this has been! Cool, granted, but that wide blue ceiling and the bright chandelier hanging within, warmed the day nicely. And with little wind, the cool temperature not all that noticeable when you're busy toddling along on forest trails. Which is precisely what we did, as is our usual, haunting our nearby forest with our presence. Jackie, our little companion would not have it, otherwise, anxious as he is to get out for his very important Doglish sniff-fests.
Last night's frost left the morning roofs steeped deep in hoar frost. As it melted under the sun, the eavestroughs dripped steadily. None of the annuals were touched by the frost; they remain crisp, bright and colourful. The result of all that rain the day before, which helped them to resist the effect of the cold atmosphere. And which gives us another few days or so to continue enjoying them.
Irving went out on a few errands after breakfast, so Jackie and I repaired to the backyard for some yardwork. I feel comfortable with him being around in the backyard since he cannot wander out on the street given the all-encompassing fence and gate. He doesn't particularly enjoy being out of doors unless it's sniffing his way through the forest trails. In the backyard I continued to cut back perennials that I hadn't done the first time around. And from there I moved to the side of the house where the narrow shade garden hosts a company of more hostas.
It took no time at all to fill up multiple compost bags. But I was able to complete the task I set for myself by the time Irving returned. And then we prepared for our usual tramp through the forest. Despite the beauty of the day we saw only two people with their companion dog through the entire circuit we took. The kind of people, though we've only seen them once or twice before, with whom it's a distinct pleasure to pause and engage in a casual conversation, relaxed and mutually pleasant in nature.
Birds are moving through in numbers now, not just through the forest, but in our garden as well. We still hear the occasional honking of Canada geese taking on their yearly migration south; sometimes they fly above a low cloud cover and it's only their nostalgic chorus that identifies their fleeting presence. At other times we watch that famous Vee formation for as long as it takes for them to disappear from sight again.
Alongside the foliage fallen from the forest canopy there's no end of detritus that has come down, bits of cellulose discarded from healthy branches that tend to adhere to various parts of a tree on their way down, that bursts of wind and rain eventually dislodge and bring to the forest floor. Larger parts of decaying limbs are favourites of some large dogs with their tendency to 'own' them while prancing through the woods, a sight that never fails to impress, for the size of the branch that some dogs' jaws can accommodate, occasionally as wide as the trails themselves.
There is a sense of completeness to the day following our ravine walks. When for some reason on the rare occasion we miss a day going out to the ravine, we feel deprived, and we certainly feel badly for Jackie who so much looks forward to his daily venture. His usual routine these days is on our return home to head straight for the front garden under the Jackmanii crabapple tree to look for tiny ripe red fallen crabapples. There, he munches on a few. And when we enter the house he's anxious for his usual chopped vegetable salad afternoon treat, pre-dinnertime.
