This has been a banner year for plant growth in the garden. So much so that I find myself unable to keep up with the weeds. Plucking crabgrass out of the lawn portion, tugging out bindwind that tends to try to  hide itself among the clematis vines, and making quick work of clover and rampant violent growth has turned out to be more time-demanding than I'm willing to devote to it. And so, I guess I'll have to live with the consequences.

Early this afternoon when taking Jackie and Jillie out for a break in the backyard, I noted roses having to b be cut back again, and the drooping branches of the weeping mulberry, plus the robust, rampant spread of the Annabelle hydrangea beside the garden gate. Out came the compost bag, the long-handled pruners and loppers and before long the bag was pretty well filled.

The day was hot enough at 28C, but while we were out the sun (thankfully) was eclipsed by clouds and the ominous background rumble of thunder accompanied by fat drops of rain reminded me of the forecast for the likelihood of 'violent' thunderstorms. I got the puppies back into the house, and continued my pruning. The rain stopped, there was no more thunder and before long out came the sun again. 

There's colour in the backyard, since the day lilies have begun blooming, and so too have the California poppies. They look after themselves. Both have a spreading habit, the lilies divide and conquer continually, and the poppies simply self-seed to return in greater numbers each summer, plopping themselves down randomly to fill in 'empty' spaces. Turns out the electrician that came along to do some work in our house is an avid gardener. I gave him some spent poppy heads to sprinkle about in his garden.

Since the threat of a thunderstorm seemed remote with the sun back out, we decided to go out for our afternoon hike through the forest. We'd had some more rain overnight and we knew of a certainty the mosquitoes would be out in full force, so dressed accordingly, since neither of us use repellant. And yes, the mosquitoes were fierce, as expected.

We were surprised to see that the wild raspberries were already beginning to ripen, and found enough to treat Jackie and Jillie with. From now until fall there will be wild berries to pick during our forest excursions and the puppies will be alert to their good fortune. I also discovered that pilotweed is beginning to go into bloom, and making my way carefully down the bank of the creek over the scree and rocks, I found that evening primrose has established itself down there, too, amongst the daisies, and the fleabane. 

Being out in the forest is really liberating for the puppies. They aren't keen on spending any time in the backyard, at home. They're little house-pups and don't appreciate being out very much. Hikes through the forest are different to them, though; they're anxious to embark on those daily perambulations. There they pick up scents continually of other dogs, mostly those that have become familiar to them, as friends they sometimes come across in the ravine. They read those scents like the daily news.

As for us, being in the great out-of-doors as a daily ritual, has long been an integral part of the quality of our lives and age hasn't changed that. We wear good, supportive hiking boots and dress according to the prevailing weather, spring/summer/fall/winter. Right now a white shirt with a stiff high collar pulled on over short-sleeved tops, and good leg-coverings are a must, preferably with plenty of pocket space. 

 

 

Today turned out yet another beautiful late-summer day. Considerably cooler than yesterday's 28C, with a good stiff wind, but although the morning remained overcast, that changed by afternoon and we were once again in full sun. We expected, when we set out for the ravine with our puppies in the early afternoon that the forest trails would be steeped deep in muck after last night's prolonged boom-and-light thunderstorm and the deluge that accompanied it, but such was not the case.

 

Yesterday was a fine day, but it was humid and steaming to go along with the full sun. We were relieved to finally get some rain. All the more so that it was such an enjoyable event; to hear the thunder claps, see the evening sky briefly alight and the rain slamming against the windows. We needed it, the landscape needed it, and we expected to view the results of it today. But no. The trails were still damp and muddy in places after the rain events of the previous week, but this rain of last night appeared to make no difference at all, but for our personal entertainment.

 

It complemented a delicious dinner; a fresh salad to begin, bookending a French onion soup with fresh raspberries. When I gave Irving a choice of cheese blintzes or onion soup, he snapped  up the soup. And I was happy to oblige. Jackie and Jillie don't think much of soup beyond chicken soup; we had it all to ourselves. As comfort food it can't be beat, though tonight's Shepherd pie will give it a run.

 

 

In the ravine we noticed that False Solomon's seal's berries were turning red. I'd never seen that before. Another oddity we came across that arrested our attention -- even Jackie and Jillie stopped briefly to give the little tableau a sniff -- but the bees involved, three of them were not to be distracted. At first we thought it was a huge single bee, beginning to expire. Closer inspection identified three bees and they were tightly clasping what appeared to be a caterpillar. Now that's a first for us. Not exactly a thrilling encounter; never is, seeing nature 'red in tooth and claw".

 

 

But in the day's peregrination, we also came across a few little dogs of our acquaintance.  And it's always a pleasure to see them. Irving always comes equipped to reward their expectant presence as they invariably settle down before him with beseeching eyes that only a heartless monster could ignore. Thrilling Jackie and Jillie no end as they claim their share of the treats, even though they've had more than enough to begin with.

 

 

Our walk through the trails was so pleasant we decided to double the length of the circuit we normally take, and so we did. There's always something different to see, things popping up you might not have noticed before. For our puppies an extended hike means more sniffing opportunities. For us, just the pleasure of walking along loose-limbed and foot-sure on terrain that may be familiar, but is forever changing in subtle ways provides a sense of balance to the day. 

 

So far, summer is continuing to shape up very nicely. We're now in a spate of the most pleasant of weather-days; warm but not hot, plenty of breezes, and a mixture of sun and cloud. And, of course, intermittent rain events. Yesterday, we deemed it reasonable, given the weather, to do a little work in the garden. Mostly tidying up, an all-summer-long occupation, in actual fact. Sun exposure, ample rain and reasonable weather conditions encourage vegetation growth. And from time to time -- at least once a week, the garden begs to be attended to, cutting back spent flowers to encourage new ones, sweeping up the detritus that tends to gather.

 

 

Nature is an endless assistant. Too bushed to do the watering yesterday, we wagered that it would soon rain, and rain it did, heavily, several hours after we completed our labours. Hard not to feel a bit smug about that kind of natural intervention. Despite that we've had so much rain this spring and summer it has all been absorbed by the thirsty ground below us. The trails in the forest have dried up nicely, and it's hard o discern that the gardens have received a needed quota of rain; with the constant wind, everything has a tendency to dry quickly.

 

 

Sun and rain have also hastened the ripening of the wild berries in the forest. And Jackie and Jillie are major beneficiaries. They know where the pickings are best because we've parked ourselves in those areas alongside the trails for weeks now, picking ripe raspberries, and now thimbleberries for them. The last of the berries -- are in even greater abundance, though they will be a while yet in ripening.

 

 

Yesterday we had seen a pair of male Pileated woodpeckers in the woods, not far off one of the trails we were on. Strange to see a pair -- not a male and female -- together actually working in concert with one another. They flew together to the trees of interest to them, and finally settled, one on each side of an old tree trunk, just a foot off the ground, to begin battering the decaying wood.

 

 

Despite the beautiful weather and the recreational allure of the forest trails, and anticipating surprises now and again at unexpected sightings every time we enter the forest, we haven't seen too many other area residents around and about in the forest. Conditions that we consider a bit of a nuisance: muddy trails, hot, humid atmosphere, stinging insects, are a real turn-off for most people. Constant threat of rain keeps a lot of even dedicated trail hikers away. But there are always exceptions, and today an old friend appeared, patiently awaiting his reward of doggy cookies. 

 

Today, as we made our way up one of the hills in the ravine's forest we saw a mess of equipment at the side of the trail, and recognized that the young men who had weeks ago set up a zip line were at it again. One man begins by shimmying up a tree trunk to fasten his end of a line that has to be taut enough to take their weight, while at the other end another of the men is also busy with his end of the line, intent on getting the tension just right. From the upper ridge of the ravine, the zip line extended across the creek to a lower portion of the ravine, across the pollinating meadow with the forest on either side. Hard, exacting work.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie were alarmed at first at their presence and the strange objects they saw beside the trail. Then their attitude changed to curiosity as they sniffed about. We were ourselves curious, speaking briefly to the two men as we passed, earning ourselves broad smiles. No doubt they were feeling a little cautious, hoping that no one would draw attention to what they were doing and invite any kind of unwanted questioning by the local parks and recreation authorities. We urged them to have a care.

 

 

Back home, time to relax briefly in the garden, look about at everything and recognize areas that we missed on our clean-up routine of yesterday. I briefly flirted with tackling the backyard which is also in need of trim-and-tidy, but I had too much to do in the house, so decided to leave it for another day in this coming new week.

 

 

 

We're back again in what is likely to be the last of this season's hot and humid spells. A full week of extreme heat and humidity to match. According to the weather report today was supposed to be an equal mix of sun and overcast but it's turned out to be fully sunny. When it's this hot, all living things seek relief from the oppressive atmosphere. Perhaps more to the point, organic matter begins to reek as it decays even faster in this heat. Which means that the kitchen waste in our green bin kept in the garage begins to smell despite its lock-tight top.

 

It's either a desperate attempt to escape the ambient heat or an irresistible attraction to the odour that draws big black flies into the garage. There's easy enough entry from the garage to the house interior when doors are opened. It is only on these remaining dog days of summer that flies manage to enter our house. Jackie and Jillie know something is amiss when a fly is in the house. We detest their entry for the simple reason of hygiene. Our pups hate them because of their irritation factor.

 

So if a fly enters the house the goal is to exit it, if at all possible, else during the night it will follow us up to the bedroom and alarm J&J terribly. They become restless and edgy if a fly buzzes them in bed. Our role is to see this doesn't happen. Irving hates killing anything, so he does his best to thump a fly lightly, so he can pick it up and release it outside, alive. After our ravine walk today, I heard a light thwack where Irving had a fly sequestered in the powder room. Then a long pause and a harder smack, and finally a really massive thwack. Elusive stubbornness; that fly extinguished its opportunity for survival.

But we did get ourselves out to the ravine in the assured knowledge that we would find relief from the heat and the sun's glare under the shield of the forest canopy. Bluejays have returned. Their high-pitched cries are unlike those of any other bird. In southern Ontario we used to see them regularly. In north-eastern Ontario they're occasional visitors; just passing through in spring and fall. Hearing them is like bumping into an old friend.

 

Chickadees and nuthatches were busy today as well, in the forest. We're also hearing choruses of crickets and seeing grasshoppers leaping out of the tall grasses beside the forest creek these days. And now the forest's squirrel population, black, grey and red are suddenly to be seen everywhere already searching for winter-storage of food. Their presence creates an opportunity for Jackie and Jillie to occasionally sprint after them. The squirrels, challenged, scold and swing their tails from perches they attain in easy escapes.

 

Several years back, the forest ashes were attacked by Emerald Ash Borers and we saw the die-off of many mature trees, both those planted on lawns of houses on the street adjacent the forest, and those growing within the forest. The trees had all the appearances of death, but on the bottom quartile of old trunks, tentative small branches soon began to sprout. The trees above those slender new branches were skeletal in death, but the will to survive evident in live roots urging the growth of hopeful new life. 

 

The cycle of life and death of all growing things, something we witness yearly with the seasons. We tend to appreciate the gardens we lovingly cultivate all summer long for their fresh, attractive presence, their form and texture and colour and the multitude of flowers that enhance our properties and greet our appreciative eyes all summer long. But it's at the tail end of summer that our eyes devour the colour in the knowledge that it will all soon fade, the garden cut back and prepared for its winter rest.

Summer is just too short. It seemed like only yesterday that we felt so buoyant that spring had finally arrived. It was only yesterday, that we greeted the changed season, and welcomed back all the sights and sounds and smells of spring with its succession of little surprises each of which was a delight to us. Hard to believe that May went by so quickly, then June and July. Without a by-your-leave they left and now August is upon us, the month that usually tells us its successor will herald a new change altogether. \\

We woke to another absolutely perfect summer day. A day of cool breezes, sun and a tolerable temperature high of 27C. No question we'd respond to the lure of the forest. It called and we answered. And since it was such a perfect day for tramping through the summer woods, we did that and more.  We chose to explore a few infrequently-visited trails, and one completely unfamiliar. Time-consuming to be sure, but what  better way to consume the day than in the confines of the summer forest? Everyone agreed.

For the first time since the late May storm comprised of a series of colossal wind gusts and torrential rain stormed through this area, we went along to an old trail a distance from our usual circuit. There were casualties there just as there had been in the part of the ravine we have greater familiarity with. It's in that area that the oldest, largest pine in the extended forest still lives. But unlike the fate of the giant old spruce that succumbed to the force of the tornado-like micro-bursts, that old pine still stood intact.

Ironically, it was difficult to access and we had to pick our way carefully toward what remained of an tertiary trail to reach it, because other old  trees had been destroyed and lay sprawled in death over generous portions of the trail. We trod between shattered branches and pine needles to make our way forward. Jackie and Jillie didn't flinch at being closed in at their height by the fallen woody detritus, just found a way to make their way through, as we did.

It stood there, with its massive limbs, complete and complacent, although many of its nearby companions had been brought low. We've no idea how old it might be, but surely in the vicinity of at least several hundred years. So, if it were possible, its experience of what had transpired around it in the forest over an extended period of time would make fascinating storytelling, if it were so inclined  to reveal what it might have seen.

As for us, we saw ripening cherries dangling in the wild cherry trees, and vitis labrusca grapes hanging from robust wild vines that had grown, draping themselves over the forest trees. In that part of the ravine, a meadow exists with fields of Queen Anne's lace and goldenrod, baking under the summer sun. There, as in other parts of the ravine fleabane and daisies proliferate.

 

On our return to link back into the usual trails that comprise our circuit, we took another unfamiliar trail, this one leading to a tiny glade with a pond which back in May looked stunningly serene, a hidden getaway for a weary soul. Now, at this time of summer when wildflowers and all the vegetation that makes up the forest bracken has grown robustly, the area surrounding the little pond is thickly green and tall with forest grasses, ferns and wildflowers. 

In essence another pollinating meadow of sorts, this one landscaped completely by nature, no human agency involved. And here cabbage butterflies and bees fluttered busily about, sucking nectar and gathering pollen; in the process engaged in the critical pollination and germination of all that grows in the world of the forest flora.

Another perfectly lovely day heading into calendar summer; on the cool side at 21C, windy gusts and a sparkling-bright sun. The sun so bright in fact, that it can be dangerous to look directly at it for any length of time; say, 5 seconds. A perfect morning to wander about the garden in the backyard and take stock of everything. With the help of Jackie and Jillie, of course.

Irving was busy on the deck, assembling all the pieces that go into two armchairs, a settee and a table, new deck furniture he bought a few weeks back that came complete and flat in a cardboard box, waiting for the purchaser to put it all together. And that's just what he was doing. Shades of Ikea! Instructions for these things are always somewhat lacking. If there's anyone familiar with tools and piecing disparate parts together, it's him. Himself a skilled furniture-maker on occasion. 

But the bolts that came with the bits and pieces were loathe to fit into the places they were meant to be, mostly because the material making up the faux bamboo is not rigid. But he soldiered on and finally completed the job. We were both of us, actually, finished our chores at about the same time. For me, it was bathrooms and kitchen, linen laundry and other sundry things.

Then off we went on this beautiful day to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie. Still on the cool side, and gusting winds to 50 mph. Directly in the sun it felt wonderful. Out of the sun, in the forest, still pleasant, since it was about 6 degrees warmer than yesterday's high of 16C. 

Before we completed our circuit we decided to go by a short, open trail in a bit of a glade alongside the creek toward the pollinating meadow we visit on occasion. There, we saw plenty of maturing milkweed, great for butterflies, but also stands of wild parsnip, not so great for those who cannot recognize the noxious plant and who may come away with skin badly irritated.  

There was also daisies dancing in the wind, and fleabane that had grown as tall as I am. Scads of thimbleberry shrubs with their bright pink flowers, and astonishingly, blackberry canes whose flowers had already begun to transform into berries. 

Irving had offered to do something on the barbecue and we agreed that 'something' could be sausages. So when we arrived back home after I cut up J&J's afternoon salad, I began making several salads for us. A desert salad comprised of strawberries, clementines and kiwis. And a cauliflower salad that had sliced green onions, chopped tomato and red bell pepper in it, to accompany the sausages. Sausages really cry out for wine sauerkraut, and that'll be on hand, as well.

 

It is almost beyond belief that the summer we looked so anxiously toward -- a flick of a moment ago when winter wore us down and we yearned to be relieved of the cold -- has come and gone. Oh, we'll continue to have lots of good days yet of warm temperatures, sun and gentle wind, but that old classic of the writing on the wall spells out summer's gradual disappearance for 2021.

 

 

The last day of August, already? How is that even possible? We're just getting comfortable with summer, despite our crabby complaints of heat and humidity. Whining is just second mature to us, after all. And as though to really bring home to our consciousness what we'll soon be missing, this final day of August has turned out incredibly pleasant.

 

If a temperature of 26C, a cool breeze and a hot sun doesn't spell out summer perfection what could? And that's nature's menu for the day. Jackie and Jillie were beyond grateful. As soon as they scarfed down their breakfast they were outside, on the deck, splayed out in the sun. They didn't care the sun was so bright they had to narrow their eyes to slits. The comforting warmth was all that mattered. And it took awhile before the heat on their black haircoats compelled them to return to the house interior.

 

These are the treasured days of balm to our souls, courtesy Mother Nature. Although the garden is tired of having worked for so many months to produce the landscapes we so admire in texture, form and colour, they too have responded to nature's elements that worked so assiduously in tandem in a choreograph of perfection when rain fell, the skies cleared, the sun emerged and cool delight was our gift.

 

When we went off in the early afternoon to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie there were the bright pink faces alight with sun of the balsam family's Himalayan orchids. A sea of cheerful faces in an ocean of dark green foliage. Those pink flowers are quite simply irresistible. It is not even remotely possible to pass their presence without at least a brief stop to absorb their insouciant pink greeting.

 

And then we dip down the hillside as the trail takes us into the forest interior. Where Jackie and Jillie enjoy brief little sorties off the trail to adventure themselves with the closer inspection of anything that moves or an odour beckons. Their frenetic back-and-forths ensures their energy output is readily double ours. But then, of course, we amble about on two legs to their four.

 

There was no reason to cut short our outing in the forest, though we had other matters that would absorb the balance of the day's activities. The sun was warm and brilliant, illuminating the forest with its bright shafts of light and spreading a strange light-mist throughout the landscape. Clarity of vision enhanced through a shimmering veil of light.

 

On our return home Jackie and Jillie clamoured as usual for their vegetable salad; chopped snap peas, cucumber, tomato and nectarine. And I put together a potato salad for dinner; Yukon gold potatoes, chopped green onions, salt, pepper, snap peas, over a bed of lettuce, topped by canned salmon and sliced cocktail tomatoes. 

 

Then we left our two little guard dogs at home. Alone. And they don't appreciate that. But they cannot accompany us into a supermarket. Unless we're in New Hampshire on holidays and shopping at one of the supermarkets there where everyone is delighted to see them in their pouches seated at the front of a shopping cart. That doesn't work here.

 

We had another destination first, though, to drive over to the place where we pick up shelled peanuts for our porch guests. While Irving hoisted a 50-lb. bag of peanuts onto a cart, I looked among the spring bulbs for fall planting that the store always features, and came away with more scilla, tulip and narcissus bulbs. We had to take a roundabout way back from Richie's since, on the way there, we couldn't believe the traffic tie-ups resulting from lane closures.

 

 

But eventually we ended up at the supermarket, where we got our food shopping excursion completed. We were later than usual arriving there, and found the parking lot really full, as was the store. A situation that makes us very uncomfortable at the present time. Such are the hazards of being out in public in this time of the coronavirus pandemic.