When he paints the house exterior, performs some interior/exterior electric work, or spends hours in the basement of our house replacing plumbing piping that was originally installed at a gradient not useful to the efficient passage of wastewater from the kitchen, he does these chores on his own.  He neither wants nor expects me to aid him, though I offer, knowing full well my presence would only be an impediment, not a help.

When it comes to the daily household chores requiring attention in the house that have fallen to me, representing traditionally female work, he has never hesitated to offer help, nor to think of initiating some of the work on his own, unasked.  A fairly uneven situation, but one of long standing representing the initiative, capability and thoughtfulness of a partner in life who recognizes no gender divisions.

A reality of our partnership that was expressed when we were 18, married, and undertook to divide household chores so we would then be free to enjoy one another at leisure, when work was completed.  When our children were infants on his arrival home from work he would always make an effort to ensure that another mind and another pair of hands were capably available to look to their needs.

When the children were in their teen years, we routinely cleaned up from the evening meals together, in a harmony of shared purpose that really reflected the tenor and quality of our relationship, when I washed the dishes and he dried them, our three children being excused to do their school homework.  But the message of working together was one that trickled down successfully through exposure, leading our children to understand that there are few divisions and much that bind us together.

Yesterday, he undertook to spread mulch over those of our garden areas that are subject to the fiercest heat of the sun, and which have suffered as a result of the unusual heatwave we are undergoing, coupled with drought conditions, although I am the family gardener, not he. 

Today, when he saw me filling up the container for demerara sugar that he prefers in his coffee, he expostulated that he should be doing that, since he uses it, not me.  And then he set about assembling the constituents he uses for bread baking, to produce the dark, rough type of bread that I prefer.

That done, hied himself outside to retrieve the trash bins after weekly garbage collection.  And then to turn his attention to the assembly of a two-seater faux bamboo garden seat to take advantage of early afternoon shade and breezes that roll through the front garden, where we can sit in comfort our little dog between us, enjoying the gardens on the cobble patio he constructed years ago when he was only 69.

We wonder how wildlife is faring in the face of this prolonged drought.  It cannot be a good situation for birds and mammals living in their natural environment that has, in a sense, turned against their best interests with water scarcity.

At least the wildlife in the ravine is not completely bereft of a water source.  The creek running through the ravine to the Ottawa River downstream, still is pouring through, albeit at a low level.  So there is moisture there for the animals and birds that require it.  Elsewhere it can be a different story.  This area is rife with wetlands, and when the water table goes perilously low, the wetlands tend to dry up.

As we were entering the ravine yesterday to make the first long descent, we interrupted the activities of two hares, and watched while one, then the other, taking its time, scurried elsewhere out of range of our sight, and therefore, lessening the potential threat to them.

A short while later we saw what appeared to be a juvenile owl flapping and teetering about on the lofty branches of an old ash tree leaning over the ravine.  It looked as though it had very recently left the nest, although we know that others like him had done so a month earlier.  Below, where we stood, a few squirrels rapidly approached to cadge peanuts from us.

Made me wonder whether with our daily presence and peanut handouts we were patterning these squirrels to lose their natural sense of alertness to danger from all directions, including from above.

Last night we viewed a video that proved amusingly entertaining even while it had at its heart a serious look at the changing world around us, the impact of those changes on traditional cultures that have managed to survive through dwindling ethnic numbers and the irresistible drag of both modernity and humanity's melting pot on tribal and ethnic alliances and pride of heritage.

Using the medium of a family caught halfway between the remnants of their original culture, wishing to retain its authenticity and the allure of science and technology that has gradually sieved out many elements of any traditions that defied the reality of the present, a happenstance encounter between a Mongolian herder and an expatriate Russian employed on contract to bring the world to an isolated yet waiting-to-be-developed corner of the world results in an interplay of culture, amiability and change.

The humour is wry and meaningful of the ability of humans to find levity in any situation.  With an overlay of bewilderment of the people involved at how their world has been slipping away from them, and their resulting feelings of guilt at allowing it to happen. 

Their inner consciousness leads them to cling more fiercely to what they value, while the reality of their lives slowly slipping into another kind of conscious awareness of being left behind, instructs them to embrace change.

But change does eventually absorb them all, just as surely as the Mongolian way of life on the steppes, herding sheep, goats, cattle and horses undergoes a wholesale alteration when civilization intrudes with its roads enabling development, reflecting the collapse of social-political systems at the same time, with the emerging collapse of the Soviet Union.

For the past week we have been appreciating and hugely enjoying perfect summer weather.  True, because of the drought, we have also been hoping for rain events that have been slight in number, but overall, we have nothing to complain about.  This has been, thus far, a good summer for people who look forward to typically such weather after a long, cold winter.

The weather has been bringing more people out of their homes than usual.  One of our neighbours, a young mother of two infants, loves to talk about her children.  She is conflicted about motherhood, wanting to enjoy being with her children, unwilling to miss any important milestones, yet, though her family fortunes are in good health, does not feel she is suited by personality to be at home with the children full-time. She resents her care-givers seeing her children grow and learn and mature throughout their care hours, and her short time with them, restricted to the busy hours pre- and post-working hours.  She is offended as well that her parents are no longer as anxious to spend time with the children now that they are more demanding, and require to be played with and constantly stimulated.

Another neighbour, who now has two infant grandchildren worries incessantly about their welfare.  The first child, a little boy, underwent a series of health problems when he was younger, and now appears to be completely healthy.  The latest one, now six months old, a little girl, is colicky, refuses to eat, shows little interest in drinking, and the child-care specialists have no idea why she is reacting to food and drink as she does.  They have recommended feeding the child milk while she sleeps, though there is danger inherent in that, to ensure she is properly hydrated.

Yet another neighbour, an ebullient man, friendly and open-hearted over the several decades we have known him has become an inveterate world traveller.  He needs to occupy himself.  He has ample financial resources and lives comfortably, but does so alone now.  His wife, whom he married late in life and who was younger than him with two children of her own from an earlier marriage, finally left him, no longer willing to cope with his roving eye and his penchant to take up with other young women.  A succession of younger women began to live temporarily with him after his wife left, but nothing seemed to jell for him.  His wife refused to return, though he pleaded with her to do so.  Finally, he adopted a little homeless cat, and found a modicum of satisfaction there.  In the meanwhile, he undertakes at least two exotic destinations each year, with a few more modest ones thrown in for good measure.

People coping with their privileged circumstances, finding chasms in their lives difficult to cope with, despite those privileged circumstances. 

It's always been that way for me.  A generation of excitement and anticipation, thinking of being in a green space, preferably closed in with trees predominating; a sense of mystery prevails.  Something deep within beckons. 

As with the satisfaction of being out in nature that stirs within me, so too when there is the opportunity to plan a garden, to plant living things, to look forward to their maturity, their blooms, their wonderful presence that I am able to soak myself in, time and again through easy access.

Somehow, contemplating a walk in a forested area, despite feeling physically tired, imbues me with energy and the tired condition dissipates, as I stroll in the woods, enjoying its enveloping presence, feeling free and unencumbered with concerns.  Working in the garden, among the plants, in the warm, moist soil, engenders similar feelings, along with a deeper one of extreme pleasure.

Yesterday afternoon my husband went on a shopping expedition while I was busy at home, and he brought back a few surprises for me.  A gardening venue was selling off the remaining items in their summer planting inventory at a fraction of their original retail price, and he ended up buying two miniature globe cedars, and three ground-cover junipers.

We have a small garden out in front of the house on one side of our driveway centering around a blue spruce.  It happens to be very dry in that micro-climate, with the roots of the spruce soaking up whatever moisture happens along there.  Spring bulbs manage to survive, poking their colourful blooms up faithfully in the spring, but the many hostas that I've planted there have done dismally, and the coral bells no better.  As well, the annual wax begonias that do well in some years have been afflicted because of the drought, and despite our constant applications of water by watering pail, they have slowly succumbed.

In came the solution, we hoped.  Yesterday afternoon, in a cool light drizzle that never amounted to anything actually resembling rain in volume, we moved the surviving hostas and placed them elsewhere in other garden plots, and in their place planted the newly-acquired miniature spreading junipers. It looks much neater now, and much more hopeful.

Another of those huge water tankers rumbled down our quiet street yesterday, en route to the street behind us.  There has been an inordinate amount of loud mechanical activity from that street so far this summer, far more than usual.  Some houses have changed hands, and some home owners of long standing perhaps have decided to take the plunge into pool ownership.

It has always been a source of great puzzlement to me why anyone living in this climatic zone with our short summers would invest so much money, time and inconvenience committing to the mess that ensues with the installation of an in-ground pool (without even arguing the aesthetic-destroying-quotient of an above-ground pool), displacing space and gardens.  But increasingly, people seem to succumb to this desire for their very own backyard pool.

And in this particular neighbourhood, no doubt reflecting more of the same elsewhere, there are a good many pools.  In fact, many if not most of our neighbours have invested over the years in their own swimming pools, taking up a good deal of their backyard space.  Taking up as well, the work involved in looking after it, and the ongoing costs of operation.  And occasionally complaining loudly about that.

Oddly enough - or perhaps not, given human nature - after the first exhilarating year or two of enjoyment, their use falls off sharply.  All the more so if there are no young people in the home.  Those with quite young children who have opted for a backyard pool are more committed to its use.  And it is among those families that so often disaster strikes when, as occurs far too often, attention strays from the child's activities.

Inexplicably, our 20-year-old French lilac began the growing season as usual, put out its usual complement of emerging blossoms, but I noted leaves were not sprouting, and felt certain it was ailing.  It is now not dormant, but dead.  Its removal will leave more room for the adjacent maturing magnolia tree and roses to stretch out a little more.  It had its time, and although it's always sad to see something expire, it won't be missed too much.

Most of the trees, shrubs and perennials are faring quite well this summer.  It has been puzzling to see what has become of the first offerings of the tomato vines that I usually plant in large garden containers; they have been peculiarly cursed with the appearance of rot on the hanging bottom halves of the fruits.  Despite which, we allowed the largest of the tomatoes to ripen, took it off the vine, cut away one-third of the bottom where the rot occurred, and found the remainder to be exquisitely tangy-sweet and juicy.  We grow those tomatoes because it's fun to do so, to watch them develop through the summer months and because we enjoy their harvest.  Not much to enjoy this time; one of the vines grows a grape-tomato the other a field-type tomato, and there haven't been many blossoms, even though both are directly in full sun for most of the day and both have been well watered, despite the drought.

Strangely enough, the developing new tomatoes don't appear to be suffering from whatever kind of blight attacked the older ones, though the atmospheric conditions remain the same, as do our ministrations to the health of the two vines which look no different than others we've grown far more successfully in the past.

On the good-news front, the architecture of the gardens themselves, their texture, colour and variety continue to give us great pleasure for a minimum of effort, as established gardens.