Neither of us can quite recall a summer like this one. We've had wet summer months before, of course, even a summer we can remember during our working lives when rain fell heavily on weekends, sparing weekdays when everyone was at work. We even had a summer about a dozen years ago that was wet enough to liquefy the Leda clay in the ravine to the extent that some of the hillsides simply melted away sending uprooted trees into the creek below. That occasioned a summer of remedial work to free up the creek since aside from being a natural water conduit for the forest, it is also used by the municipality as a storm-run-off for nearby communities.

 

 

All too many nights this summer we've heard the comfortable sound of rain pelting the house windows and on some occasions, booming thunder and lightning bolts jolting Jackie and Jillie out of their sleep. The night before was one of those occasions, and last night yet another. When we'd gone out for our afternoon hike through the forest trails yesterday it was cool enough despite the humidity to wear rainjackets and tuck the puppies' into our pockets 'just in case'.

 

 

Just-in-case failed to materialize and we enjoyed our trek even though rain seemed imminent. Today on our afternoon jaunt through the forest trails we were struck by the forest floor's accumulation of detritus, ranging from stout tree limbs, to bits of branches released by the ferocity of wind and rain the night before. Much warmer today than yesterday, though and where it was heavily overcast and threatening rain, today the sun appeared. Although the forest was suffused with an overabundance of rain, rays of sun penetrated the forest canopy.

 

 

We saw a small garter snake slither swiftly across the trail. A notable event, because we haven't seen any snakes this entire year. Usually, in early spring, they're ready to emerge from their winter dens and warm themselves in the heat of the sun on rocks or parts of the trail where the sun has an appearance. But not this year. One year we watched as a nest of hatchlings poured themselves out of their underground habitat to begin exploring their way into a snake's hidden life.

 

Jackie and Jillie seldom 'notice' snakes, even when they're on the move. They can pass by them with no indication they have recognized a life form, even though the slightest movement of a squirrel will send them into a frenzy of curiosity. Even robins running along the trail as they often do,  elicit their interest, but not snakes. They're accustomed to seeing rabbits, squirrels and the occasional raccoon in the backyard and they always react to their presence. Not sure what it is about snakes that escapes their notice.

 

 

It's the time of summer when asters begin to evince their presence. The early blooming asters are fairly spare in their presentation, not nearly as attractive and more akin to cultivated garden asters as the later ones tend to be, blooming in bright shades of pink and lavender. The early ones are undistinguished in pale mauve, yellow or cream with irregular petals. 

 

The Himalayan orchids on the other hand, are difficult to miss and a shame when they are. This year like the Queen Anne's lace and Pilotweed, they've assumed an incredible height, towering over us. There are also feral coneflowers popping up in limited colonies alongside the creek. The Thimbleberry shrubs have produced a good crop of ripe berries, but their time is coming to an end, while blackberries are now quickly ripening. Irving picks thimbleberries (purple raspberries) for Jackie and blackberries for Jillie; their preferences.

 

 

Everything is now ripening toward early fall. The feral hawthorn trees in the forest are festooned with bright red berries although the American bittersweet vines are still flowering. This year we've seen few baneberry plants, either white or red-berried, for some reason. Even very mature Jack-in-the-Pulpit produce red berries, in preparation for future Jacks to eventuate. 

 

 

That weather alert warning remains in place, although so has the sun, so far this afternoon. It's so pleasant here now, that on our return home it seemed like a good idea to just stay outside, seated in the garden, enjoying both the sun and a cooling breeze on a 26C day. Later, we discovered on the news that Toronto isn't enjoying much of this summer day with heavy rain and flooding. Heading our way? We'll soon enough know.  

 

There are summer days of such splendid perfection they absolutely refuse to be treated just like any other day. Some people responding to the allure of a perfect summer day, dream about spending it at a beach. Our preference is a good, long hike through forest trails. There was a time when we'd combine that with canoeing on a lake where hiking trails spiralled out of the area, and a full day could be spent outdoors, including an evening picnic meal. 

 

 

On the lake, the slap of a beaver's tail, the call of a loon and the sight of a Great Blue Heron rising from the edge of the water, gave us a double reward. There were times when we hauled the canoe out of a lake and watched as a deer reached up to grasp fruit from a wild apple tree. We no longer travel the relatively short distance to those semi-wilderness areas, content with visiting the forested ravine accessed across the street from our home on a quiet urban street.

 

Because it was such a perfect day -- generous cooling breezes under wide blue skies and a temperature reaching toward hot, that the forest canopy pleasantly moderated for us, we held a short consultation with our two little dogs whose enthusiasm clarified their willingness to remain out longer than usual in the forest by prolonging the circuit we generally take on off-branch trails. Although we haven't seen very many people and their dogs out lately, attributable, we think, to ubiquitous mosquitoes, muddy trails, overcast skies and pop-up rain events, this time was different.

 

 

It was a busy morning, Irving mowed the grass in the backyard and I baked a batch of gingerbread crispy cookies favoured by our older son, with plans to bake a batch of chocolate-chip cookies for our daughter-in-law who finds them irresistible, so that when they arrive on Monday there'll be goodies to greet them with. They may both be in their 60s now, but there's something about children, no matter their age, and cookies fresh out of a mother's baking agenda that never fails to appeal.

 

 

By the time we set out for the ravine it was still early afternoon, and it was just as well that Irving stocked up on dog cookies before we left, for we came across quite a few old friends who know him as the 'Cookie Man' and made a beeline for him, leaving their human companions for as long as it takes to chomp down on a few cookies each before resuming their own hike on other trails.

 

We also picked countless purple raspberries, sweet and ripe, for Jackie and Jillie whose enthusiasm for the fruit particularly on hot days, knows no bounds. Jackie has learned that he can reach up to the low-hanging fruit to avail himself of their sweet abundance, though he prefers we do the picking work and proffer the results in our outstretched palms. Although we've been picking ripe Thimbleberries for weeks, the shrubs are still flowering.

 

We were a little surprised when we doubled back on our circuit to pass by the forest creek, finding that the zip line several young men had installed from ridge to ridge of the ravine's treeline was still intact. And to see that the taut line was in use by an acrobat-inclined 'zipper', who might, for all we knew, have been practising for Cirque du Soleil. From the near distance it appeared to us that whoever that individual was, he was taking spectacular chances. He did appear to be enjoying himself tremendously, but that line's height from point A to point B was substantial. The creek and its banks are lined with large jagged granite rocks. At one point he even indulged in some trapeze-like moves, including a brief stint of tightrope-walking.

 

We were out for close to two hours, and grateful to sit quietly in the garden afterward, enjoying being among the blooming plants, their colour, texture and form a never-ending visual treat. It occurred to me that it had been quite a while since any of the many garden pots had been fertilized, so while Irving sat and watched I set about sprinkling fertilizer and watering it in to our miniature gardens-in-pots.

 

Another beautiful summer day dawned this morning. Moderate everything; heat, wind, humidity. So we bookended our afternoon ravine hike through the forest trails with visits to the garden. I'd done some tidying in the garden yesterday afternoon and then Irving pulled weeds in our awful lawn before cutting the grass. Nothing needs watering. So off we went, following Jackie and Jillie to the ravine.

 

Hanging over us a series of dark clouds wavering over whether to open the spigot on rain, or wait awhile. The clouds were blown out of contention by Aeolus (or was it Zephyrus) looking out for our welfare. We've got a stone mask of the Greek god hanging high on the brick wall above the garden, his hair curly and unkempt, ditto his beard, his mouth wide in the business of vigorously and with full authority blowing air around.

 

 

The two gargoyles we have facing either side of the house on the porch complete a companionable quartet of heavenly spirits if we count in the statue of Persephone standing in the garden. Their kind care and consideration has resulted in a comfortable garden, eager to please, and it does. And then of course, there's always Jackie and Jillie maintaining a careful watch on their garden.

 

 

The cooling air caressed our bare arms, the breeze wafted our wayward hair aloft, the shimmering green of the forest enveloped us, and nothing could be more soul-soothing to convince us that all is well with our little world, while madness rages without.

 

Irving had the opportunity to make some neighbourhood dogs happy when we were up on the spine of the ravine, drawn to our presence by the excited yipping of our two little companions. There weren't many ripe berries for picking today, most are in the still-ripening stages. 

 

 

Between us we often discuss things we've read that the other hasn't, and from that often comes long conversations as two people who've lived long lives together philosophize from the depths of their experiences. Jackie and Jillie pay no mind to us, but we mind what they're doing, and often call them back from the forest interior when they're up to no good.

 

 

Earlier in the morning I baked a double-layer chocolate cake. To be frosted on our return home, after it had completely cooled. It's actually for our daughter-in-law's birthday. Which was on the 27th, but they'll be here with us tomorrow, so I'm catching up. 

Back at home again, we rest awhile in the garden, look about at everything, admire new blossoms that present themselves, while Jackie and Jillie await our entrance back into the house where they anticipate their afternoon salad, as a reward for being very, very good little dogs.

We subscribe to two daily print newspapers that get delivered to our door each morning. While breakfast feeds our bodies the newspapers feeds our minds. One is a local newspaper, the other a national one. And as a bonus a free community newspaper is also delivered along with these, weekly. Yesterday when Irving brought in the newspaper, he noticed a tabloid-sized paper stuffed into our mailbox, not on the hanger meant for newspapers, and he brought it into the house along with the others.

A quick glance at the name didn't ring any bells, but it did tickle one's fancy: 'Druthers'. Obviously a paper whose content is meant to satisfy the reader's often-frustrated irritation at the all-too-obvious ideological bias of the printed news by columnists who make no secret of their political orientation. Our first impression was that this might turn out to be an alternative voice we might want to subscribe to.

An impression that quickly dissipated even with a cursory glance through the sections addressing issues as disparate, yet linked, as government ineptitude, pharmaceutical companies' collaboration with big-business-loving government, the criminality of the vaccine mandates and pandemic shut-downs, how they affect our vulnerable children, and others all of like ilk. Somehow, the writers manage to slip in, here and there, references to Israel as a global predator against the poor suffering Palestinians whose time has surely come...?!

Just what any psychiatrist concerned over the mental/intellectual well-being of a population among whom an astonishing percentage of citizenry believe in conspiracy theories. As in one cannot escape the talons of Bill Gates, slavering to control our pathetic lives. Blood pressure tends to gauge the extent of outrageous statements-of-fact, to the point where the tabloid is put down with disgust. This is a publication dependent on 'volunteers' who think alike, to lend a hand in distributing the sheet to households. So then the logical train of thought turns to who among one's neighbours relies on this trash for truth and takes it upon themselves to spread its incomprehensible falsehoods....?

Spirit=cleansing remedies are always available, however. As in seeking serenity in walking through the garden, on the way out to the ravine this morning. A choice made between an early morning hike through forest trails before the extreme heat of the day sets in, or proceeding as usual, and waiting for afternoon when so many other things have been done, before setting out.

We chose a morning hike, and didn't regret it, even for a late breakfast, fully compensated by a fresh-air atmosphere, not yet over-heated and making for a pleasant several hours of wandering through the trails. A young man of considerable girth we've seen on occasion year after year with his choice of dog breed happened to be out this morning. He told us he's now the proud father of  little boy. But his interest in and affection for bull mastiffs has never waned. 

We've had some experience with these dogs in the past. They're quite gentle creatures, like to be noticed like all dogs, and appreciate being acknowledged. But they're also monstrously strong reflecting their size and musculature. In the summer their sense of curiosity and tendency to get too close, not noticing that their sheer bulk can move mountains, it's fine. In the winter when the trails are icy and slippery, it's another thing. He had a new puppy with him this time and a much larger dog that was likely a puppy when we saw him last, years ago. Dogs of this size are not very long-lived.

We encountered a number of other people long known to us, making for occasions when everyone stands in a little circle, discussing 'old times' in the ravine and people who used to come out regularly but no longer have been seen in ages. In many instances it's because people lose their dogs to illness or old age and simply don't, thereafter, feel the same urge to get out into the forest; the ghosts of their missing pets roam about on their own now.