Yesterday, returning from our afternoon ravine walk we decided to remain outside, and gathered up rakes, shovels and giant compostable bags to finally begin the task of cleaning up the driveway, walkways and parts of the gardens of their winter-long-collection of detritus. Primarily, it consists of vagrant fall leaves along with the never-ending deposits of pine needles from the large pine on our front lawn. When we were finished our labours we ended up with three compost-bags-full of twigs, dessicated foliage, copious piles of dry needles and other bits and pieces of nature's discards.

It was pleasant and invigorating work, and we enjoyed it. The area is drying up nicely, now that most of the snow and ice is gone from the street's landscape. Not so in the ravine, not quite yet, and there are some places that traditionally will take yet weeks, despite the warming atmosphere and the gaining strength of the sun, before thick ice layers will finally relent.

There is still enough snow and ice left in the ravine to require that we continue wearing boots and crampons fitted over them for traction on the ice, particularly going up-and-downhill; without them venturing in there represents a sure formula for broken limbs; human not those of trees.

In contrast, our daughter's six acres of woodland on the Canadian Shield over an hour's drive from where we live has long since lost its snow and ice, and the wetland pond behind her house has finally abandoned its ice-sheet cap, enticing its resident creatures to cast aside their hibernation mode. There, spring peepers and bullfrogs serenade nightly, and trout lilies have already thrust their way through the frost-released soil.

This morning we heard the long-familiar sound of the municipal street sweeper as it drove slowly up and down one side of our street, and then the other. An annual working visit that informs us that winter is truly gone and all the gravel, sand, and impolite detritus that gathered on the road over the winter months has been scooped and removed.