My husband remains concerned that area birds and squirrels not be bereft of food they can forage in this spring that refuses to insist that winter truly depart. So he keeps putting out fresh food for them regularly, ensuring they have no shortage of seeds and nuts, and we continue to be entertained by their antics, our very own private showcase of wildlife running amok.

Because of the occasional night-time visits by a rabbit which has been kind enough all winter long to fertilize my various flowerbeds, we got into the habit of peering out the front door through its floor-length window, to see who or what might have come around. The rabbit, since the snow finally melted, no longer does.

We know it isn't really necessary to feed them all any longer, that they will be able to find enough to keep them going on nature's seasonal provisions, but it's become a habit hard to break. But break it we shall, and then resume putting out seeds and nuts once again when winter comes knocking again for 2014-15.

We are now enjoying the occasional day when winter is convinced its time has passed for the winter of 2013-14, and spring presents a reasonable facsimile of glorious warmth and magnificent sun. That combination, along with the frequent rains of April has coaxed the peonies and hostas in our garden to begin their tentative early appearance thrusting through the soil released from its formerly frozen state.

In the woods, trout lilies have begun to appear on the forest floor, under the trees; not yet in bloom, but it won't be long; just as the trees begin to leaf out.

And last night we enjoyed some right royal entertainment. There, as we were heading up to bed for the night, was the raccoon that faithfully visits our backyard composters. It feasted two nights ago on the fresh product of the compost pail, and last night the raccoon decided there was no advantage in ignoring the tidbits of seeds and nuts put out for the other habitues, diurnal not nocturnal.

Aware of our gawking presence the raccoon was not the least bit perturbed that two  humans were agog at his appearance on their porch. Their porch is his porch, after all. His movements so strangely languorous, he simply sat there, hunkered down amid the seeds and nuts and delicately chose those that most appealed, and we watched, fascinated, as he jawed them placidly, eating his fill.