Finishing Up

This was one of those days when the weather was so changeable, it ran the gamut of what might ordinarily occur throughout the space of a week. We awoke to rain just petering out after having poured all night long, so that the outside landscape was completely sopping. Not long afterward the skies cleared and there was nothing but blue to be seen up there.

The temperature which had plunged overnight steadily rose under the influence of the sun, and our backyard was comfortable enough for my husband to continue working on cladding his new garden shed. Suddenly the sun was temporarily blocked by the appearance of a dark cloud and a quick downpour. Which didn't halt his enterprise.

At noon we set out for a ravine walk, just a few minutes after one of those sudden downpours, where a billowy white cloud with a dark grey area on its underside decided to open up just to ensure we weren't too complacent about the day's prospects. The ravine trails were slushy, the creek waters were roiling and muddy. All of the leaves have now disengaged themselves from the trees they had formerly ornamented, so a thick layer of leaves littered everywhere, an exquisite patchwork of colour.

Squirrels were rousting about here and there, but also awaiting our daily appearance, rushing to be the first to roost on the stumps and trees and bridges where we always leave peanuts. We heard, but did not see, a raven overhead somewhere, its hoarse calls unmistakeable. Last week we'd heard an owl, over on the opposite side of the ravine to where we'd been, but had no luck scoping it out, later. We did see hairy and downy woodpeckers, however, and chickadees and nuthatches.

When we got back home I took some photographs of the shed, its construction now almost completed. And photos too of our winter-ready gardens. I've been checking to see whether squirrels have tried to dig up any of the spring bulbs I planted a few weeks back (and which all of the rain we've had since then have been given a real leg-up for root encouragement), but none of the beds appear to have been disturbed. I used bloodmeal when planting the bulbs, and covered the beds generously with the soil from the emptied-out garden pots; that doubtless helped.

We've replaced the original seed-and-nut-encrusted suet cakes that we hung over the edge of the deck rail, the squirrels having done a neat job of extracting from them what attracted their appetite, leaving the dregs on the floor of the deck, for the birds who appear more content to peck about there, than in the suet cakes themselves. Chickadees, cardinals and sparrows have come calling to take advantage of what lies there. However, none of the three new suet cake offerings have as yet been disturbed by anyone.

We're hoping that as winter approaches and as the squirrels begin their semi-hibernation, birds will have more of an opportunity to take advantage of new cakes being put out, since they're placed there primarily for their nutritional needs, not the squirrels'. We'll have ample time to determine whether that scenario will in fact, ensue. In the meanwhile, the squirrels play havoc with everything, as is their wont.

And as the day progressed we were treated to light, fluffy clouds swirling through the sky, and the occasional light rain until the sky finally succumbed to a total covering of bruised, dark clouds threatening to swamp us again with heavy rain events. It felt quite a bit colder, and most certainly was, as the wind came up emphatically, blowing leaves about with gay abandon, everywhere. We'd gone out to do some shopping and bought another winter jacket for our granddaughter, prepared to return it to the shop if it doesn't fit or she doesn't care for it.

I also snapped some photos from the vantage point of looking out into the backyard from the interior of the new garden shed, through one of its windows, to pick up some colour from what is left of the burning bush (not much; the tumbled leaves can be seen floating in the birdbath, beneath the shrub) and the purple smoke tree still holding onto its leaves.