On its way, but dawdling. We had, as of yesterday, about four feet of snow left on our front lawn, less in the backyard. Yesterday was another glorious day of  beneficent warmth with the temperature reaching all the way up to 9C, just a mite less warm than the day before when it rose to a heavenly 11C. The sun was out and it warmed the atmosphere immeasurably. And while it was busy doing that it also warmed the house with its rays beaming through our house windows.

 

Jackie and Jillie reacted to the balmy air and the sun by constantly asking to go out to lay about on the deck, warmed by the sun entering slantwise under the canopy. They didn't stay out long each time but it was clear they were enjoying a new kind of freedom. The tension of cold air and wind fast dissipating. Now, when we take them out to the ravine, it's without the hassle of boots to protect their tiny paws from snow and ice.

The snow and ice are still there, but the puppies can withstand the cold to a certain degree. And now we're well beyond that certain degree, and they're comfortable. They no longer need their winter jackets, and exchanged them for sweaters, and lighter halters. Other than, with the snow shrinking and melting, even at their slight weight, they're beginning to sink into the loft of the snow, and that's a feeling they're not particularly fond of. Convincing them to stay closer to the trails.

Before we went out yesterday, though, I decided to bake oatmeal squares. That's a little different. The finished product is nothing like cupcakes or muffins, or cake. It's far more compressed, there's no light moist and airy texture, because oat flour lacks the gluten that wheat flour has in abundance. And gluten responds to rising agents like baking powder, baking soda and yeast. Whereas oat flour, absent much in the way of gluten, doesn't.

I used it because I wanted to share dessert with our son who avoids consuming gluten. This recipe used equal parts rolled oats and oat flour. For 1-1/4 cups of each there was a half-cup butter, half-cup granulated sugar, tsp and a half of baking powder (because I detest baking soda), a tsp. of vanilla, two large eggs, and a half-cup each of dried cranberries, min-chocolate chips and chopped pecans. The squares have a stiff, crumbly texture. And we all enjoyed them.

Today's a rainy day. Still mild relatively speaking, but no 11C; the high was no more than 4C, with wind, and very damp of course. So, rain and cool temperature represents an anti-hike formula for us. But yesterday's hike was extra-long, taking is a full two hours to ramble through the forest trails. The same impulse awareness of warmth and sun brought out quite a few people from the broader community, fully appreciating the opportunity to make use of our invaluable community resource.

Snow is melting on the hills, and the creek at the ravine bottom is wider, darker and more churned up than ever. We heard nuthatches and chickadees flitting through the forest trees, and crows calling and hiking high above the canopy on prevailing winds. Spring is approaching. But as it is with making progress through the melting trails leading to one step forward, another backward as we slide backward downhill in our ascents, so it is with spring's eventual arrival.

I haven't yet succeeded in persuading Irving that the local wildlife is no longer (if they ever were) in need of handouts, they're perfectly capable of foraging for themselves; it's what nature has taught them to do in fulfillment of her imperative given all her creatures; survival. Strange as it seems, he feels 'responsible', now that he has once again accustomed our little visitors to coming around for treats, to ensure that they're well fed. And they are.

From squirrels to cardinals, the occasional rabbit or skunk to crows and sparrows, chickadees and nuthatches -- and of course, our very special raccoon, assuming there's only one. Each time we do the grocery shopping, my husband tosses in crackers not meant for us, and huge cereal boxes not meant for us, which end up being scattered on the porch floor, along with any toast or pancakes or French toast left over from breakfast.

Although the little raccoon comes over at any time of day -- afternoons in broad daylight -- seeming to suit him just fine sauntering over from the ravine, last evening just as darkness smothered the landscape, there he was, patiently waiting under the wrought-iron porch loveseat. He remained there while Irving hurriedly refreshed the depleted offerings, upon which the little fellow immediately emerged and began comfortably helping himself, most of his competitors sound asleep for the night. 

Yesterday I accidentally gave myself a 'fat lip'. I discovered years ago that the dry-dusting floor mops that I favour are no longer available. Oh, there are some, but instead of wool, the fabric is oil-based and doesn't pick up dust. My online searches found a product that looked perfect, but they wouldn't ship from the U.S. to Canada, given the awkwardness of shipping something with a long wooden pole attached to a mop-head.

I kept looking and found an industrial cleaning supplier in the city who when I called said they were open to the public, not only the trade. And along we went, and there I picked up an industrial size-and-strength dry mop and several heads. And while I was there, an assortment of lambswool dusting wands which still serve me well. The mop's stick was so long I couldn't handle it, so Irving sawed a foot off it. I became accustomed to its weight and have been using it for at least five or six years. Holding the till-long mop handle at an awkward angle yesterday when I was dusting the dining room floor I managed to thrust the top against my mouth and boy, it smarted!

After using the thing for so many years, every day of the week, a bloody lip. I'm meticulous about ensuring that no scintilla of food remain anywhere on the kitchen or dining room floors because when we lived in Atlanta and Tokyo, rats and cockroaches could be guaranteed to visit at such places where discarded food might be available. The moderate-to-hot, moist weather is perfect for them. And though there's far less likelihood of such visitors here, the habit is now well entrenched.

As is, for us, taking our two puppies out daily for long saunters through our nearby ravined forest. For us the exercise, and the pleasure of a natural woodland scene unfolding before us as we amble along the forest trails, for them, much the same. And we're never disappointed in the changing scene we come across, season to season. One more day of spring; where has the season gone, for heaven's sake!

Trilliums are now in short supply; the foliage remains but the flowers, bright crimson, have mostly faded but for the occasional later-blooming trillium, still retaining intact flowers, albeit few and far between, now. The other late-spring standbys, trout lilies, are there in foliage form, their flowers long since dissipated (not long, about a week or so). 

This year we've noted there are now more Jack-in-the-Pulpits than ever before. Decades ago there was just one part of the raven where a few Jacks could be seen, now they're almost everywhere. Not in great abundance, but with a noticeable presence -- if you know what to look for, where to look for them, and recognize them for what they are. We can both still recall as children in elementary school 70 years ago, learning about Ontario wildflowers; doubt if that still prevails.

Then we saw that the dogwood shrubs too are now beginning to bloom, joining the hawthorns and the black cherry trees and the wild apple trees that had begun a week earlier. Oh, and the False Solomon's Seal too is setting its floral spray, just as has red baneberry, in greater display this year than last, when hardly any could be seen on the forest floor. A virtual cornucopia of wilddflowering everywhere we looked.

What is absolutely bedazzling though, is the speed with which the greening of the deciduous trees takes place. the forest canopy is a now a bright green blaze, and apart from the beauty of a fully-leafed forest there is the practicality (for us) of the canopy providing shelter for trail-hikers during times of light rain. Which we experienced today, a hot, humid day, sun sun, some rainclouds, but no big rain event yet.

It was a sopping-wet morning we woke to today. And last night Jackie and Jillie outdid themselves in defiant courage in an exhibition of truly heroic dimensions. We were treated to a sound-and-light show that was quite extraordinary. The confluence of an overheated atmosphere and  high humidity leading to a violent thunderstorm of interesting dimensions. It spoke loud and clear, waking us up at 4:00 in the morning.

An anticipatory frisson is what we experience hearing the introductory rumbles. It's something we would hate to sleep through, preferring to hear all those heavenly complaints, and awaiting each thunderous clap to introduce its accompanying sheet of lightning. Our pups aren't quite as blase and clinical about such events as we are. They're clearly disturbed, taking ti all quite personally, but not unreasonable about it.

They growl their disapproval of any force of nature that threatens the pacific aura of quiet sleep. When said growls fail to accomplish their intent of cowing the rude visitor, they revert to louder admonishments and begin barking their sharp disapproval. That the thunder and lightning simply ignore them is quite infuriating, leading Jackie and Jillie to increase the verbosity and volume of their chiding forbidding the gods of weather to continue their irritating interruption of sleep.

To no avail, since for every increased decibel of outraged barking, the thunder roiling the night-time sky approaches closer and becomes far more thunderously intrusive. What thrills us about all the drama involved in the monumental claps and resulting lightbursts obviously fails to favourably impress our little dogs. And then, finally, the lively and vibrant orchestral poetry comes to a stop, while the sound of a heavy downpour takes its place. Necessitating that someone arise to shut the windows.

And so, little wonder what awaited us a few hours later was a drowned landscape. A dark landscape, becoming even darker as we entered the woods where a dusky twilight awaited us. But then our eyes adjust and what we see surrounding us is a landscape drenched with deep colour, a palette denser than the shades we're generally accustomed to viewing. Hard to say what's more preferential. But of course while we're out there and the clouds keep scudding by, we're also hoping those clouds will decide they've released sufficient moisture for a day.

And speaking of sound and light, we were treated to someone else's experience of last night. A friend walking with his Rottweiler Rex, with whom the first exchange is a discussion marvelling over the intemperancy of the thunderstorm of the night before. But before that thunderstorm erupted our friend hours earlier had driven over to a site in Gatineau. Where he and his companion parked their vehicle, turned on their radio, and listened to the performance of a popular band they favour and whose singer they are ecstatic over.

Why drive to Gatineau, park, turn on a radio and listen to a program when they could do all that comfortably at home? Well, it was a coordinated event. For which they paid $70 to enjoy the privilege of witnessing the band on a bandstand, while admirers were parked below. There were no loudspeakers to carry and amplify sound, and since everyone had parked a good measure apart from one another sitting in their vehicles, the sound the band made was too faint to be appreciated, requiring the boost that the radio supplied, where a local station was playing the event live.

A somewhat different kind of performance, imaginative in its presentation. Which our friend and his friend abundantly enjoyed in this age of COVID isolation.

No one, on a day like today, could possibly find reason to complain that nature forgot her spring itinerary. Today is as glorious a day as anyone might imagine perfection could be. So warm that all the house windows have been flung open, the doors as well, and the fresh fragrance of outdoor 'air conditioning' wafts through the house.

It's possible it has made Jackie and Jillie a little more frenetic than usual about getting out, even though getting out for them lacks much when we're not accompanying them.

Sundays are their favourite days, and mostly because we tend to have pancakes and breakfast sausages together, all of us. They even enjoy some of the breakfast honeydew melons that we love, bananas too if they're truly desperate. Once they've finished their own kibble/chicken breakfast, their little noses follow the scent of what's cooking on the stovetop. And they position themselves beside me anxiously as I flip pancakes.

Watch with eager anticipation as I wield knife and fork and cut their pancakes and sausages into teeny pieces. And when everything has sufficiently cooled, gulp it down in one fell swoop, then search heartbreakingly for any wayward crumbs. Why bother cutting everything up so daintily for them, when they just swoop in and scoop up? Good question.

With such a warm day and no rain in the offing my husband decided to clean the deck and paint it with a sealant, an annual task, before hauling out the summer furniture. So he gathered the necessary implements and the pail of sealant left over from last year's application and went to it. He used to be able to buy a sealant with stain incorporated in it, but can no longer source it.

We wondered when we set off for the ravine with Jackie and Jillie towing us along, whether the trails would be full of people seeking fresh air, exercise and sun, but discovered far fewer people out than has been usual for the past several weeks. Due no doubt to the fact that since stores will be closed tomorrow for Victoria Day, more people chose to do their shopping today. No complaints from our end, however.

Jillie had been outfitted with a different harness to replace the one she had wiggled out of several times during our trailwalk yesterday. She also had less occasion to get all excited in the presence of strange dogs, so the alternate harness failed to get a real workout. It turned out to be for all concerned, a more serene stroll through the forest trails, more like old times.

As might be anticipated for such a spectacularly beautiful day, there was plenty to see alongside the trails, from tender new ferns unfurling themselves in graceful fronds, to the really peculiar sight of a poplar that extreme winter weather had cracked and toppled. A dead poplar in other words.

Dead it might have been, completely separated from what was left of its trunk broken a foot off the forest floor, but the branches were sporting catkins, bright green fruiting bodies, making it evident that the tree was determined if not to continue living, then at least to provide for its offspring seedlings to take its place. Nature truly is marvellous.

We saw the first of the serviceberry trees in bloom, and a nice big patch of wild ginger making itself back at home again for summer. Jillie was unpleasantly startled when a beetle zipping through the air seemed to make directly for her. And in turn I was surprised when I felt a familiar prick and looked down to see a mosquito settled on the back of my hand.

wild Ginger Emerging

On our return home, we noted that the magnolia tree in the front garden is steadily opening more and more of its flower buds, the bright sun picking out the hot-pink flowers emerging. And tulips too are beginning to open and flaunt their petalled perfection. What a truly exciting time of year this is!