Weather! Gardens! Wildlife!

We enjoyed a late breakfast, interrupted only by a telephone call from our granddaughter. Who wanted to know what kind of apples would be best for an apple pie. She had decided she would try to bake her first fruit pie. Anything, I said, other than delicious-type apples. Spartan? she asked, and no, I said, won't do. They did have royal gala, but it's a shame to waste them on an apple pie. She would decide on something else, she said. And we said, we'll be over for a short visit later in the day.

It had rained heavily all night, and continued into the morning. We hardly felt we would be able to get out for our usual jaunt in the ravine, but we were, after all, able to take advantage of a brief interlude, and rushed out there, for a bit of exercise and fresh, very wet fresh air. The stream was a muddy raging torrent, thundering its way along its course. The trails were replete with wide, deep rain puddles. The skies a portent of more to come.

Later, we set out for our hour's drive to our daughter's house. The rain had stopped, but the clouds moved quickly along in the sky, sometimes showing patches of blue, but so little invested in clearing that one cloud level, and formation and colour after another made for a changing atmospheric landscape. Either side of the highway there was another kind of colourful landscape.

Black-eyes Susans in bloom, vipers bugloss, Queen Anne's lace, clover, daisies, yarrow, cattails and other rushes, along with pinks, purple loosestrife and trailing lotus kept us bug-eyed with appreciation, not wanting to miss any of nature's wildflowers decorating the byways of the nation's capital. Mid-summer's gift to the traveller. And as we travelled further there were other landscapes.

Bucolic and mindful of the importance of the growing season in a northern hemisphere country. There were vast fields of corn, reaching to respectable heights. Cultivated fields of silage, fields of rye, oats and barley. We saw herds of milking cattle, and fields with horses, neat barns and silos standing back of farm houses, with gardens of lilies and daisies and dahlias, and kitchen gardens to serve the needs of the family.

As we entered our daughter's driveway, she stopped mowing her lawn, and gathered her dogs around her, away from the drive. Just as well they are well disciplined, since there are ten dogs, ranging in size from a toy Pomeranian, a slightly larger chihuahua, all the way up to an extremely large German-shepherd-malamute mix, a rescue from Iqaluit. And out ran our 13-year-old granddaughter; just becoming accustomed to having achieved her teens.

Hugs and kisses exchanged, we were informed she had baked a raisin pie. And we were to take home a piece of it with us. As large a piece as we would like. Furthermore, the loose-leaf binder of her writing and her artwork that she had been working on for a matter of months was now complete, and that too was ready to take the journey home with us. A memento for us of our grandchild's emergingly-mature consciousness.

The camera was whipped out; I cannot go anywhere without my camera, must needs preserve for future visual pleasure and personal posterity all that my eyes behold, value and love. I am enraptured by our daughter's capacious gardens, the beds and borders she works over with such conscientious care, as a naturally-born gardener, knowing just what will work, where, and what each plant whose placement she designates requires to thrive. It helps, immeasurably, that she uses rabbit litter to fertilize those same gardens.

Among the astilbes, the roses, the phlox and the hydrangeas, there are other denizens of her garden that pique my interest. With her wetland directly below and behind her house, and well placed rocks within the gardens to provide texture and an architectural sensibility, her gardens are irresistibly alluring to snakes. There is a beautiful and small garter snake resting among her daisies. And in front of the house there is a black water snake, large, but not nearly as large as they can grow, whose nest is nearby.

Our granddaughter is most certainly not enamoured of the presence of the snakes. She is more than a little squeamish at their unwanted presence. The dogs, to their credit don't seem to mind sharing the landscape. And there is the glory as well of butterflies and dragonflies; orioles, all manner of woodpeckers, robins, chickadees and hummingbirds for whom these gardens are a must-visit. Mostly because of the many feeders hanging about at regular intervals.

The squirrels and the chipmunks and wild hares also make this area their home, more than willing to partake of the offerings to the birds, and they're welcome to do so. When our daughter takes her zoo out for their twice-daily jaunts on her property, she comes across deer regularly around her meadow, and foxes as well. Her personal Garden of Eden.