The street we have lived on over the past thirty years, and streets adjacent to ours, hosts a community of people from everywhere in the world. There are people living on the street whom we've known for decades and others for only a few years, while some, mostly very young families are as yet personally unknown to us. But we've known and know neighbours from Bangladesh, India, Russia, Hong Kong, France, Syria, Egypt and elsewhere. Among us live French Canadians, Black Canadians, Christians, Hindus and Sikhs, Muslims and Jews.

 

 

When I was out this afternoon working in the garden, a man we know as a frequent visitor to the forest we visit daily walked by with his beautiful Rhodesian ridgeback, a noble creature of great beauty. Down the street came the regular thwack of a young boy hitting his ball through his net. There was a rise of children's voices in play. Very little vehicular traffic passes on the street. It is a quiet street of single-family and attached homes. Just down the street there is a semi-major artery and crossing that, there are parks and playgrounds in both directions.

 

 

The ravine that we visit daily runs through the community. Barely a trickle of the number of people who live nearby have any idea of what it's like to walk through the woodland trails. We're mostly urban creatures with little curiosity about the natural world close at hand, even though on occasion someone might glimpse a raccoon or a rabbit, even a fox and in the past deer or beaver, edging out of the forest briefly onto someone's lawn.

 

 

Another overcast, cool and very pleasant day today met us as we walked through the forest with Jackie and Jillie. On our way there, we came across one of our near neighbours just exiting the ravine as we walked up the street. She walks alone now for a relief from concerns, her husband no longer accompanying her since he's been experiencing health and mobility problems. It's a pleasure to stand awhile and talk together quietly as she described their recent visit with scattered family members in Winnipeg.

 

We made our trip through the ravine this afternoon a bit on the short side. Irving had been busy in his workshop completing one of his stained glass pieces; puttying it before installing it within a door frame he has yet to produce. So while he was cleaning up from that I had taken Jackie and Jillie out and began working in the garden, cutting back our myriad of hostas. On our return the puppies had their salad, Irving went out to run a few errands, and I continued clearing away the garden for its fall/winter rest.

 

I had an old electric waffle iron stuck for ages in the back corner of a kitchen cupboard where I keep my pots and panes. It had rested there for decades until about a month ago I remembered it, and decided to begin making waffles for Sunday breakfasts for a change from French toast and pancakes. The batter is no problem, it just contains a few ingredients; flour, baking powder, sugar, vanilla flavouring, egg and milk. The consistency is easy enough to produce. And we were pleased with the end results. I found the old waffle iron tricky to use some days, not so others. And then it gave up the ghost. So we put it to rest.

 

 

A week later Irving came home with a surprising replacement. It had been advertised at Canadian Tire, on sale at a mere $20. It's a really small contraption, and fairly basic, without the refinements of our old one. But its use is straightforward and it produces a good finished product, albeit smaller than what we were accustomed to. Mind, it's time-consuming to cook up enough waffles for  breakfast, a lot slower than doing a few batches of pancakes. But we think they're worth the wait, and have been enjoying them. So do the puppies.

 

Well, it's October. A good month. Two of our children were born in October, over 60 years ago. For the first week of this month the weather is guaranteed unusually warm. In fact we've had to delve into our packed-away summer clothing for these hot days in the mid-20s. I didn't think, when I was putting away our summer garments and bringing out cold-weather ones in their stead that it was premature. But there you are.

 

When we were out today, en route and then back from our afternoon ravine walk,  we came across some of our neighbours making the most of this superb weather. For the most part, for them, a walk is comprised of a turn around the block, but it's still getting out. Mohinder was walking much slower than is his usual gait, and he told us he's been having problems with his knees. Just under each kneecap, there's painful swelling. It even keeps him up at night. His doctor has suggested he take a break from walking, but that didn't appeal to Mohinder. The medication he's been prescribed doesn't seem to be helping.

 

As for us, our afternoon trip through the forest trails was as pleasant as usual. We don't necessarily depend on the weather to enjoy traipsing through the trails. It seems to us that every day more colour in the tree canopy is revealed. And certainly more foliage has come down. Yesterday, we watched as a bit of a wind gust created a storm of dry leaves drifting from the forest canopy to forest floor.

 

We watched a hairy woodpecker busy at work. After the initial glimpse woodpeckers all seem to share one characteristic, a mutual sighting seems to compel the birds to circle a tree trunk to ensure they're always at the opposite side to which they're fully revealed to us. We also saw a few small flocks of dark-feathered birds slipping into thickets of fully-leafed trees, their flight so swift we weren't able to make out what kind of birds they were.

 

At home, going through the garden, there's barely any indication that we had worked so diligently yesterday afternoon to tidy things up by pruning wayward and overgrown tree branches, sweeping up fallen detritus and generally doing some fall housekeeping. The relentless drive toward fall/winter absorbs the garden and its vegetation-denizens, themselves busy constantly culling unwanted twigs and foliage that then litter the ground and anything else they plop onto.

Irving noticed that the driver's side mirror of our neighbour Melanie's vehicle had smashed. This was a few weeks back. He offered to fix it for her, explaining he'd had the same thing happen a year ago and replaced the mirror himself. He just needed some mirror glass to cut to pattern size and he'd fix it up. The cost from the dealer for a replacement is $500, she discovered, so she agreed. She bought an inexpensive mirror-tray from a dollar store and Irving took the mirror out of the tray, marked it to size, cut it and glued it to the mirror platform, fixing it in place securely with silicone.  He's never at a loss for inspiration.

We've been neighbours for decades, back when Melanie's younger son wasn't yet born and her older was reaching his teens. The latter is now married with a little boy of his own, and Melanie is his daytime caregiver, so she has her hands full. Her husband Mustafa isn't seen about much the last several years, he's coping with an incurable cancer and is managing to hold his own thanks to very specific treatment that has set back secondary cancer spread. And then her daughter-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and is undergoing treatment. Melanie is a strong, capable woman, tireless and undiscouraged.

When we went out this afternoon to the ravine for our daily gad-about with the puppies, we discovered the presence of a survey crew, a private company. We have come across survey crews on the rare occasion over the years, with the Rideau Valley Conservation Authority which oversees the geology of the region. The ravine can be fairly unstable under the 'right'/wrong conditions as we discovered years back when serious slumps hit the hillsides taking down the hillside forest.

Although we came across a survey point and equipment, we saw no one taking measurements while we were out. What we did see was a pair of beautiful young teens, sitting on the abutment under one of the bridges. The girls had left their bicycles leaning against trees further down one of the slopes and were quietly enjoying watching the creek slip by under them. We saw them again later when they decamped to reclaim their bicycles.

A warm and sunny day, it looks as though we've left the cooler temperatures behind temporarily. And because it was warm, the bees were out in droves, making the most of the blooming wildflowers. It's quite delightful watching them flit from one flower to another after briefly alighting to gather pollen. Jackie and Jillie pay their presence no mind, but it's entertaining watching them in purposeful, single-minded motion.

Today the berry picking was scarce. Just enough to whet the puppies' appetites. There are tons of berries left to ripen, all in good time. We discovered that Jackie will eat blackberries if they're a little soft. When they're ripe and firm, it's Jillie who prefers them and Jackie who will discard them. Only one in a myriad of ways that they're unalike. 

Later, we went out to do the food shopping, early enough that the supermarket wasn't crowded, which is how we prefer it to be. We were surprised, however, to find a lot of empty shelves. Not so much the fresh produce which we were thankful for, but other items, like the dairy counter with great gaps of empty space where orange juice, cottage cheese, eggs and other food items usually are available. 

 

Climate change appears to have given us new weather patterns. We've been experiencing nearly-daily thunderstorms and that's unusual, particularly when they come in one after another in quick succession in the space of a few hours. Last night, after a day without rain in pleasantly cool temperatures and plenty of sun, a series of thunderstorms rolled overhead banging the roof of the house. It's either that or late-afternoon thunderstorms, and sometimes both. We've yet to see whether that will become a new summertime 'normal'.

 

What has become 'normal' is that tornadoes that once regularly hit Canada's mid-western provinces have moved east, to east-central Canada, over the past decade or so. This morning Environment Canada issued a weather warning for our area of Ontario -- that by late afternoon or early evening a tornado watch would be in effect. Today has been one of those days of low-lying clouds alternating with sunny breaks.

 

 

We decided to get out for our ravine hike with Jackie and Jillie a little earlier in the afternoon than usual, with the intention of leaving as little possibility that we'd encounter serious weather, as we could. Although it looked as though rain was imminent when we set out, that impression soon changed. From trepidation to relaxation, despite the warning, it just seemed like a beautiful day, so we took our time and decided to lengthen our circuit.

 

 

We're seeing some occasional colourful leaves on the forest floor discarded by overhead trees, though it's only midsummer and a long way from autumn. We've noticed over the years that poplar in particular have a tendency to drop foliage that has turned fiery orange-red; not in large numbers, but here and there. Maples also have a tendency to do the same thing. We also saw today that thanks to the inundating storms hitting regularly fungi is now appearing on the forest floor. 

 

Not so wonderful are the standing puddles of rainwater, the perfect venue for mosquitoes to lay their eggs, and this week the pests seem to have proliferated, albeit not in serious numbers. Just enough to be irritating and put us on our guard. As we entered the forest, we heard an owl call several times, but had no luck spotting it. At one juncture we saw and heard a few crows flying circles in a limited area and conjectured they were harassing an owl, though we couldn't confirm it.

 

Because we had extended our hike, we passed by an area that is host to a number of wild apple trees. The apples are numerous this year, and beginning to put on weight. In late summer and the fall months we often pick a few apples to munch on and share with Jackie and Jillie. Some of the apples are crisp and sour, others sweet and juicy.

 

Different wildflowers tend to grow in various areas, and so today we saw wild sunflowers in bloom. We tend not to see them everywhere in the ravine; they grow in a strictly defined area where asters can also be found, an area that is host to large colonies of trout lilies in spring. 

 

In the entire time we were out we saw only one familiar face, a woman we've known for decades as a dedicated trail-hiker. In fact, she comes out to the forest multiple times throughout the day; once when she does a really long circuit at a hot pace, leaving her dog Millie at home because Millie is getting on in age, and tends to linger here and there. And then again, bringing Millie out with her, at a more leisurely pace. Millie heard Jillie's falsetto barks and came barrelling through the trails to set herself expectantly beside Irving, to wait for cookies.

 

It was once we were back on the street after our ravine circuit that we came across neighbours. One of the street's group mailboxes is located close to the entrance to the ravine, and sometimes it serves the function of the office water cooler. So we stood for a while in a little group, talking neighbourhood happenings, being brought up-to-date on what's been going on, with whom.

Our neighbour Lynne, told me that she noticed the house roofs had frost on them early this morning. They rise earlier than we do. And I noticed when we first came downstairs this morning that both she and Daniel were already out. They're not out that often, so I felt it to be unusual. Since they both retired they've spent a lot of time on cruises and organized trips abroad. Actually, our neighbour next to them, Serge, is also peripatetic, travelling hither and yon on exotic trips. I doubt there's anywhere left for him to see that he hasn't already made a trip to at least once before.

Lynne, and Dan, I noticed, had piles of soil bags in preparation for some garden work. Hours later they were still at it. When I took Jackie and Jillie out for their ravine walk, there was Lynne, spreading fresh soil on the front part of our lawn. At least a sizeable area that should have been lawn. Irving has tried to ameliorate that part of our lawn countless times. It's never been the same since Bell Canada excavated the front of the lawn to fix a poor cable connection. Any time Irving managed to get the grass in good condition, a Bell crew would return and dig it up again.

They're supposed to fix things up after finishing these jobs, but they must contract with a group that does things quickly and on the cheap; nothing they've ever done has resulted in anything resembling a healthy lawn, and we're not that particular. Irving is out of commission for a while, getting over a bout of gout. He's much improved from his condition two weeks ago when it first hit, but it's a slow process. I was out in the backyard this morning, cutting the lawn with the use of a push mower that he bought years ago when a robin was nesting under the deck and Irving didn't want to disturb the nestlings with loud noise from a power mower.

The pure enjoyment we share going out daily with Jackie and Jillie to the ravine, traipsing through the forest trails has been rather reduced of late. Jackie and Jillie keep looking for Irving, and I keep telling them he's at home for now. Their usual rambunctious style has been notably muted. They're not their boisterous selves, something's missing for them, as it is for me, in Irving's absence. When we returned from our ravine hike two days ago we found Irving outside, filling up the garden urns and pots with soil.

Today turned out to be a lovely weather day. From overnight frost to a high temperature of 23C, under a bright sun and light breeze. The breeze just right to discourage the presence of mosquitoes and we didn't miss them a bit. We're finding many more little patches of Jack-in-the-Pulpits this year randomly scattered through the forest. And now the wild lilies-of-the-valley are in the prime of their bloom, their tiny white bells fully erect.

By the time we returned home, Lynne and Dan had finished preparing their gardens for annual planting with topsoil, and they had completed the large patch on our lawn, seeded it and had put a soaker hose to work. It's so good of them. We've been neighbours for thirty years, and we couldn't ask for better neighbours. So many of the same families that we became familiar with when we first moved into this house have become friends of the type that make for quality of life.

And then it was time to leave Jackie and Jillie at  home. Alone. Poor tykes. Didn't they whine! Irving had decided  he would come shopping with me. We weren't surprised to find the supermarket packed. We were surprised to see the number of employees busy packing shelves. And we were also somewhat surprised to see so many empty shelves.

Once everything was packed away at home, and Jackie and Jillie given their little vegetable salad treats, we went back out to the front garden, where they moseyed about here and there, and Irving sat enjoying the sun, and I puttered about planting a few more annuals. We've made a date to go out again tomorrow planning to look for more plant stuffers. There's also still the backyard pots to fill. More fun for me!

 

We went out early with Jackie and Jillie for our ramble through the forest trails today. A beautiful day, as it happens, balmy though overcast. Even the wind seemed almost tropical. Because it was so mild, the snow accumulation of our snowstorm several days earlier was melting rapidly off the deck canopy. The snow in the backyard has been much reduced. 

 

We surmised that the trails in the ravine would be reduced to a softened state, but as it turned out that wasn't the case. It's always a few degrees colder in the forest than it is out at street level. The depth of the ravine in particular holds on to its snow. And the cold radiating up from the forest floor adds to the colder atmosphere. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.

 

 

For one thing, though the snow cover is gradually melting even in the ravine, filling the rushing water of the creek with its cold, clear runoff, the new blanket of snow still appears ... well, new. Unblemished so to speak. The raw detritus underneath has not yet put in an appearance.

 

And because it was such a beautiful day, and likely also because it was early in the afternoon of a winter Sunday, we decided on a longer circuit for today to remain out for a lengthier period of time. As long as we left enough time to finish up a few things at home and then leave for the airport for a scheduled 4:00 p.m. arrival from Vancouver.

 

 

There were quite a few dogs out as well, taking their people for a leisurely stroll in perfect hiking conditions. The trails haven't been victimized yet by the milder weather; they're firm and broad and make booting it along that much easier.

 

We came across several people we haven't seen in ages because of the time of day; their outing time doesn't mesh with ours. We've known both of them for years. One, two years ago suddenly lost her husband to the effect of a COVID Astra Zeneca injection which in hours of his having been vaccinated affected his heart to the extent that, as the attending MD at the hospital they rushed to caused his heart "to explode".

 

 

The other, whom we came across separately, told us she had caught what she thought was a cold from her granddaughter back in December. The test she took registered negative for COVID, yet she had all the symptoms of the virus. And she still suffers from some of those symptoms, notably loss of taste and loss of smell. Apart from feeling energyless most of the time.

 

 

All of which make us very grateful that we somehow have managed to evade any of these  unfortunate occurrences for the past three years. Both women -- who, as far as we know, don't know one another -- find comfort and serenity in the forest during those times they persuade themselves to take their canine companions out to refresh their souls. 

We merely had the impression that yesterday was a hot day. That impression was dispelled today, when a really hot day meandered by. The temperature read 25C when we left the house around 9:00 am, and by the time we returned around 11:00 it was 30C. Now that's fairly warm. Particularly on a bright, sunny day. I had planned to get some gardening done, and soon realized those plans would have to be modified.

First off, when we descended the long  hill into the ravine proper, there was Suzanne, gesturing to us to wait for her. She was fast approaching from the bridge to the right, where we always swerve off the descending trail to take the bridge to the left. The one she was vacating was the last bridge we would cross at the completion of our daily circuit.

She wanted to tell us that her husband, Barry, was dead. Strangely, I had thought of him two days earlier, thinking we might soon hear such news of him. And two days earlier was when his death occurred. When we first knew him he was a ravine-hiking stalwart. They had a Golden named Della and she always accompanied him. But that was three decades ago. Now, at 92, he is dead.

He's been in a long-term care home needing closely supervised medical attention for the last seven years. He'd had prostate cancer, spinal problems, and a severe heart condition. They were our neighbours; where we live at the curve of the middle of the street, they lived at the foot of the street. Theirs was a second marriage; he had left his wife and two teen-age sons in favour of marrying a much younger woman, and Suzanne was that younger woman.

She smiled brightly when she informed us. Mostly, she talked about a trip she had taken to Manitoba with a nephew. They had also taken a cruise to the North and she had seen whales. She had just returned from the trip. It was in her absence that Barry died. For the last decade of their lives together Suzanne mostly went her own way, on  rips that never included Barry. And he never seemed to mind. This time he took a trip that didn't include her, and she didn't mind.

Our trip consisted of the usual circuit through the ravine trails. Which was what Jackie and Jillie anticipated. We hadn't got very far once again, before the beautiful young Vizsla came dashing along to exact the usual toll from Irving who has come fully prepared. This dog is the most beutifully proportioned, wonderfully well behaved, lovely temperamented dog with the most graceful movements ever. He's the pride and joy of a young boy who walks him regularly.

We decided before returning home to extend our circuit just a bit, and go around to the forest pollinating meadow. The cost to us of that side trip is a somewht uncomfortable stroll through sawgrass taller than we are grown in on the pathway alongside the bank of the ravine creek. It's a wonder that Jackie and Jillie don't balk at going through the grass, it's so thickly packed. From time to time I can feel a boot toe in the grip of the grass, temporarily restraining me from striding forward; the kind of snare that can lead to a trip-and-fall.

Halfway along the path we come to the feral tomatillo plants full of gradually ripening fruits. The fruits themselves cannot be seen, completely encased in the thin green layer of vegetation covering and presumably protecting it from insect predation. A really unusual sight to come across such exotic plants by chance winding up in a forest setting.

The loosestrife is in full flower. The wild blackberries ripening in the heat and glare of the sun. Irving always picks whatever is there of both blackberries and thimbleberres for Jackie and Jillie. Jillie eats the blackberries, Jackie will eat only the thimbleerries. Jillie is typically omniverous, while Jakie tends to be a little more selectve, though he usualy loves any kind of fruit and vegetable.