We couldn't, and wouldn't ask for a more perfect day. It's our 66th wedding anniversary. We usually treat ourselves to a trip to the Waterville Valley in the White Forest of New Hampshire at this time of year to hike along old familiar mountain trails, but not this year, and not the year before. Instead, we opted this morning that dawned sunny and hot and windy for a pre-breakfast tramp through our nearby forest with our puppies, Jackie and Jillie.

What convinced us that morning would be an ideal time for a walk in the woods was the prospect of an afternoon temperature high of 30C, punctuated by thunderstorms. It certainly didn't look as though thunderstorms were nigh when we set out, since the sky was perfectly clear, the sun gleaming in its golden chariot with a cooling wind making the temperature feel just right.

A few days ago we had stopped for a lengthy chat with a young man we occasionally see in the ravine, doing the trails at a double trot for a physical challenge. But he likes to stop and talk, and we oblige. We hadn't seem him for a while, and he just happened to mention that he'd never seen poison ivy in the forest. I just nodded, and went on to tell him of the poisonous plants that are present on the forest floor, like red and white baneberry and henbane, neither of which he had heard of, much less knew what they looked like.

A few years ago we recognized wild parsnip growing beside one of the trails and I pointed it out to another constant hiker who came along the following day with tools to uproot it all. I'm of two minds about that; on one hand, I like to see all the plants that erupt out of the forest floor, on the other it does pose a problem when these plants are close to the trail, anyone brushing up against such a plant could come away with a severe skin irritation.

 In the case of the poison ivy, even as he spoke, we were standing in the one area on one particular trail where poison ivy abounded. Today, though, we saw other, more pleasant plants flaunting their presence in the ravine. Blackberry canes have proliferated in the forest, they're everywhere a little bit of sun can penetrate the interstices of the forest canopy, and it looks as though this summer will bear a bumper crop of berries.

We were surprised after an hour of tramping the trails to come across our dear neighbours Mohindar, Rajiner, and Imeran, coming down one of the hills heading for an exit, meaning to return home through interconnecting streets. Mohindar has been having problems with one of his knees and finds downhill tolerable, but uphill intolerable. Rajiner has been taking to coming into the ravine on her own for a lengthy, brisk ramble, because it's good for her. She's been working from home the past year and more and so has Imeran.

Close to where we came across them we were surprised to see a few 5" goldfish (carp) swimming about in the stream in several places. We had thought the Great Blue heron and the pair of Mallards that have colonized the creek had finished off all the fish, but evidently not. Close by the creek there was several patches of daisies in bloom, and bladderwort, and alongside them, both purple and pink clover in bloom.

Back home again, setting the table for breakfast, the sun went in. The house became dark. We went upstairs to shower, and the house seemed really dark. Then thunder erupted and Jackie and Jillie barked their disapproving response. Thunder, lightning, a dark atmosphere and a sudden release of torrential rain. That kind of thunderstorm erupted again in the afternoon, the clear sky we had enjoyed departed the scene and dark clouds took their place.

After breakfast we drove an hour and a half to our daughter's house, to visit with her and our granddaughter, something we haven't done very often in the past year and a half. And there was spent the balance of the afternoon. She has feeders out for hummingbirds and you can see up to ten at a time flickering about her bounteous blooming honeysuckle growing up against the front of her house. And there we also saw Yellow Admiral and Monarch butterflies flitting about the flowers in her garden.

Clear skies, an overheated atmosphere with the sun lording it over the landscape, and a good brisk wind to cool us down. If this isn't as close to perfection, it's hard to imagine what is. There are some casualties, however. The discovery under one of the large spruce trees at the very front of the lawn and garden, of a tiny, perfectly formed bird nest. Empty of its former nestlings. No sight anywhere around in the garden of any tiny birds having been rudely swept out of the spruce by hefty wind gusts. Just the woeful looking tiny nest.

We can expect very warm temperatures for this week; today up to 28C, by Monday 34C, so that's a challenge. Means we'll likely be leaving the house for our daily hikes through the ravine early morning, not midafternoon. And light meals. Like the potato salad we had last night for dinner. It went down very well with lots of hot tea.

I could have skipped baking this morning. Usually on Friday we end the week to enter the week-end with a little more elaborate meal, including a baked dessert. But because berries are  now coming in from Mexico and the southern U.S. in generous portions, I thought why not a blueberry pie. A baked goody, to be sure, but also fresh fruit, and blueberries are so good. So a blueberry tart it was.

We keep hearing more about the intention of the Ontario government to ensure that all its over-80s be fully vaccinated. In fact, this morning on the news came the invitation to those over 70 to begin registering for their second dose of vaccine. Our early-week attempt to register for an earlier inoculation of our second dose than mid-July had failed when we were informed that due to a shortage of vaccines evidently specific to Ottawa, no appointments could be made.

That was supposed to have changed, with medical authorities urging people to proceed with making appointments. When Irving called this morning, he was transferred to a number by an automatic system that connected him with someone who was tasked with making appointments. What met his ear was a recorded explanation that the person at the other end was on two weeks' holiday and wouldn't return until 22 June. 

He called again, and this time spoke to a woman whose accent was so thick he was hard put to understand what she was saying. She tried to slot us in to an appointment for July 1, Canada's big 'birthday' holiday; not too attractive an option; no slots were available in our own area, this would have to be at city hall, where doubtless celebratory (distanced) events would be on view.

He called a third time, spoke with another person who found an opening for us the following day. At first the slots were several hours apart, and then this helpful individual found two slots together early morning, again at city hall. So we'll end up having our second dose only two weeks before our originally scheduled second dose, two months after our first dose.

After that rigamarole we thought we could use some fresh air to clear our heads of any irritation we felt over the inability of public health authorities to manage the situation a little more expeditiously and efficiently. This, at a time when we're being warned that the South African variant is beginning to dominate cases in this area. With the added bit of information that the first dose of Pfizer BioNTech is only 33 percent effective with this variant, but with the second is boosted up to 88 percent.

So off we went with Jackie and Jillie to the ravine. Before we even dipped down into the ravine, on the threshold of the forest our eyes alighted on a clump of columbine in full flower that we hadn't before seen. And not far from it, with full sun exposure, thimbleberries have taken over among the alfalfa and clover and understory dogwood, and to our surprise there were a few thimbleberry blossoms already in evidence.

We had praised yesterday's weather to the skies -- literally -- but today was even more pleasant, making for an absolutely perfect tramp through the woods. On such an utterly beautiful day, the wind relieving the heat, a pause in the humidity, and full illumination from the sun sending its rays through gaps in the forest canopy, it was the perfect place to be to restore our mental health. And we had it all to ourselves.

In the hour-and-a-half that it took for us to hike uphill and down over a network of trails, we came across no one else. And then, at the second-to-last bridge before climbing up to street level again, there was a couple approaching the bridge from the opposite direction. Jackie and Jillie were already halfway  the bridge, and we were several feet along it, when the couple picked up their pace and entered the bridge. We backed up, to wait until they had cleared the bridge, to our little dogs' confusion. 

Most people who use the trails observe a civil etiquette code, this couple evidently had no use for it.  This was a rare occasion when I passed someone on a trail, entering the bridge as they left it, without acknowledging their presence. Needless to say some people, certainly not many, appreciate their presence being ignored. Well, then, so much for a good mood. Restored quickly on our return home, all four of us taking brief leisure in the garden, cheered by the presence of healthy, robust plants offering colour, texture and form to please the eye. 

We startled one another, me and the tiny rabbit. I was just passing by the front door, arms full of folded laundry to be taken upstairs when I did one of those double-takes and the movement was caught by the cautious little rabbit who reacted by standing straight and waiting to see more movement. I deposited the laundry, picked up my camera and in a second he was gone, that's all it takes. A blink of a moment like a lightning-strike. If he's not attentive to his surroundings he won't survive.

Quite unlike the reaction of a larger animal more equipped by nature to look after himself with claws and teeth and attitude, like the raccoons that come around to snack on the porch. The little rabbit's instincts do him well. He'll be back by and by to finish what he started, lured by the goodies sprinkled out for the squirrels and the birds.

We transited overnight from a very dry landscape to a dripping one. And it was most timely. We certainly needed rain, and finally, it arrived, weeping endlessly all night and into the morning hours. Everything is drenched and looking brightly colourful and happy about this irrigation event. The roses are scheduled to bloom and rain will increase the bloom with more buds developing. We took a tour of the garden this morning with Jackie and Jillie.

 Our old purple smoke tree is now blooming. Some seeds I had planted are finally poking tiny green shoots out of the soil. Everything looks fresh and illuminated, despite the heavily overcast skies through which the sun manages to spread light hues of brightness before being eclipsed time and again by darker, more aggressive clouds.

 One of our oldest rose bushes is now beginning to bloom, its light pink flowers dotting its generous foliage crown, and there's a lot more to follow; we've acquired quite a few roses; climbing and shrubs and carpet-types over the years. The Icelandic poppies with their tough, tough foliage are now blooming bright orange. The pink ones that struggled to bloom in the backyard got crowded out finally as competition grew and its opportunities to flourish diminished.

When we walked up the street to the ravine entrance this afternoon, the slight figure approaching in the opposite direction easily identified as a neighbour on the street behind us, Margaret, whose wan and frail presence grows ever more so each time we see her. She is faithful to her daily walks around the block in the interests of maintaining mobility; she is so light an errant breeze could carry her off.

The forest trees are bright with the verdant glow of new growth and all the more so with raindrops still clinging to the foliage. We had waited to leave the house until a large series of very dark threatening clouds passed, leaving lighter grey, not charcoal, clouds behind. And while we were out in the ravine trekking through the trails the sun peeped out from behind the dense cloud cover now and again. When it did, and where its beams penetrated the forest canopy, the heat was fierce, made even more so by the deep humidity.

We wore light rainjackets against the prospect of being caught out in another rainstorm, but as luck had it, our window of opportunity held and we had no need to quickly whip out little raincoats for Jackie and Jillie, bulging in our pockets. The likelihood of continuing rain appears to have kept other hikers out of the woods today, so we had the forest, in effect, to ourselves, no occasion for Jackie and Jillie to yap furiously at other dogs or happily greet other people for notice and admiration.

Back home again, we wandered briefly through the front garden, admiring the roses, noting how comfortable all the garden beds now appear, the garden pots and urns well conditioned and their contents maturing at an impressive pace. 

Later, Jackie and Jillie monitored me anxiously in the kitchen as I cut up little pieces of cauliflower, snow peas, bell pepper and tomatoes for their afternoon vegetable salad snack without which the day simply wouldn't be complete.

The sky hasn't yet opened to rain in this area, and the ground is getting fairly parched. In the ravine, we can see cracks forming on the forest floor for want of rain. In the garden, the soil is looking compacted and dry. Where the sky has hosted a plenitude of clouds they haven't borne any water. We've enjoyed wide blue skies alternating with a counterpoint of blue-and-white, wispy clouds streaking across the sky, and even silver-grey clouds that merely scud along, barely interrupting the sun. 

Yesterday evening, before dusk fell the sky presented as a bright landscape of pink clouds reflecting the setting sun. Clouds illuminated in soft pink, looking good enough to eat. Supposedly that could be interpreted as a message that the following day would be quite as beautiful as the days preceding it as in the old sailor's ditty "red sky at night sailor's delight, red sky in the morning, sailors take warning".

This afternoon, as we made our way up the street to access the ravine and the forest below, the sky looked promising for rain but the sun would have none of it, busily burning through the clouds to remain ascendant for the day. The best of all possible scenarios, of course, is for a sunny day, submitting to a rainy evening and rain to fall through the night.

I had earlier planted a few more ornamental plants in t he garden. And watered the gardens and the pots. An endless demand on the part of the flowers, but quite necessary if we're to enjoy the fruits of our labour in ever-blooming plants throughout the summer months. The end result is the pleasure we take in seeing the garden mature and the plants comfortable enough to award us with colour and texture in our micro landscape of a garden.

In the ravine, despite the lack of rain, everything is alight with bright green. Last year the wild apple trees bore little fruit, and that was unusual. The blossoms had been nipped by a late frost. And it looks as though the very same thing will happen again this year. Though we looked for them, we saw few apple blossoms. May had some very warm days, but there was also a string of frosty nights and it seems that has affected the apple trees again.

Area soft-berry farmers look at their dismal plants with dismay. There two, the neat arrays of strawberries which should have been flowering will now never fruit. They too suffered from those nights of late-spring frost which will result in a wholesale loss for the fruit farmers.

Our tramp through the woods this afternoon came complete with numerous occasions to stop and talk with old acquaintances. There was also more than a few new faces on the trails, including their companion dogs, so Jackie and Jillie had ample opportunity to stop and commune, too. Most of the large dogs had been in the creek and were dripping wet, a lovely cool-off for them on a 28-C day. Ameliorated by a constant stiff breeze. 

For the first time ever in this forest, though we've seen them on occasion in other forests, we came across a surprise clump of wild columbine. It would have been easy not to notice them, growing on the bank of the creek, but Irving's eye just happened to glimpse pale blossoms and brought them to my attention. So I manoeuvred myself into position on the slope and took a few photographs.

At home, we poked about in the garden again, admiring the blooming clematis packed with blooms and the newly planted hibiscus plants. There are birds everywhere flitting about in the gardens. While I was watering in t he back, Irving cleaned the birdbath and re-filled it; a hot day and though birds could make their way to the forest creek, they're looking for respite from the heat wherever they can find it.

He's just a little fellow, likely a juvenile. We catch glimpses of him now and again scuttling through the garden. And Jackie and Jillie certainly get to sniff a lot of his scent. In the winter, Irving would clean up his droppings because for sure Jackie and Jillie would regard them as we do Smarties, to be gobbled up. Last night they alerted us to his presence on the porch, our nosy, noisy little pups. 

He was aware we were observing him, delighted at his presence, still and attentive under the porch bench. It wasn't yet dark, dusk had just started to move in. He was waiting for us to go away so he could relax and enjoy the offerings on the porch. And sure enough, as soon as we moved away he mustered the confidence to emerge from his little hiding space to finish up what the squirrels and our resident raccoon had left.

This morning we spent quite a while out of the house. Jackie and Jillie know the drill and it's not one they're pleased with. We come downstairs first thing in the morning, take them out to the backyard, set the table for breakfast, then tell them to behave and go off to do the grocery shopping just as the doors open, to ensure we're not shopping in a crowd of people. J&J no longer stand at the door as we leave, howling.

As soon as we've come back in the house from the backyard and begin setting the table, on this particular day of the week, they run back upstairs to bed, and stay there. They no longer see us off, whining and begging to be taken with us. They know they won't be. And as we leave, Jackie emits a few short, sharp barks: 'come back soon!'

As it happened we weren't. Back soon, that is. We ran a few other errands; went to the Dollar store to pick up a few things and saw that some of their aisles were closed off; COVID regulations that only necessary products may be sold while we're under lockdown. And we went over to a garden centre to see if we could find any bedding plants. When I asked one of the many young women who milled about doing things (more service personnel than customers at that time of day) where I could find the zinnias, she asked if they were annuals or perennials. They had none. In fact they had little of anything, though it's a huge space. But I did get some needed bonemeal to enrich the potting soil.

What a reunion when we returned home...leaping and kissing and thanking the heavens on high that we hadn't deserted them, after all. Treats all around, more visits to the backyard, shower and breakfast. Oh yes of course, putting all the groceries away in short order.

After breakfast Irving drove the car down to CanadianTire (the store is closed but the auto repair portion open under COVID lockdown rules) for an oil change. It's warmer today than the previous five days, the temperature reaching 24C, sunny and windy. So it was a pleasant walk for him to return home, after leaving the car. And then we went off to the ravine for our afternoon tramp through the forest trails.

The forest is vividly green. It leafed out in record time this year. An odd combination of a cool April morphing into a suddenly-warm early May did wonders for the forest. We could hardly believe the swift transformation. The appearance of the forest wildflowers seemed earlier than usual. But oddly, few blossoms on the wild apple trees. And in the papers I read an account by someone from Environment Canada, noting just how speedily this year everything greened up. So it wasn't just our imagination.

Speaking of the newspapers, in today's edition of the local paper there's a feature story on the front page of the comedy of errors taking place with the second dose of the COVID vaccines which over-80s were urged to make appointments for. Our experience was anything but rare. The booking glitches were fully revealed. The provincial premier may have extolled the move for the "most vulnerable, the people who need the most protection first", but that's not how things turned out when those "most vulnerable" were informed second doses weren't available for them, after all. 

 It isn't Premier Ford's fault, to be sure, but that of the Prime Minister of Canada whose epic failure to secure vaccine contracts in a timely manner had failed the country.

We're catching up, however, at least in the administration of first doses. Ours was in late March, and now our second dose is scheduled for mid-July. Unorthodox to the manufacturer's specifications, but that's how it's worked out.