Just when Jack and Jill were rediscovering patches of forest floor without snow and ice, March did its usual; brought back snow. In the gardens in our backyard, the shrinking snowpack has revealed bare soil in places and there our lilies, tulips and irises, along with some early-appearing hostas began to lift fresh green shoots out of the still-frozen soil. We've now experienced several days of alternating freezing rain and light snow to once again cover the landscape.

It never fails to treat the eye, since it is beautiful. And along with the snow there has been hours of sunshine and milder temperatures, both of which have served to quickly melt the new snow. Today, as predicted, it's colder, with a high expected of no more than minus-four degrees, and there's a stiff wind to accompany it. Gusts of which lift snow from roofs to create long diaphanous veils of white stretching across our vision.

We had an early afternoon appointment at the veterinarian hospital we now take our two little bandits to, so we engaged earlier than usual with the ravine yesterday. Snow was still fresh on the trees, and in many places covering what days earlier had begun to emerge as the forest floor prepared itself for the onset of spring. It will take many more such milder, sunny days, however, to melt the prevailing snowpack and underlayers of ice, since both remain thick in most areas of the ravine. One positive thing about the new snow was its wet texture, clinging to the sheer ice on the trails, making walking along them far less precarious.

New fragrances are being released day by day, irresistible to dogs small and large, and they sniff about appreciatively. We're somewhat less appreciative of some of the vestiges of doggy deposits that have collected over the winter months when dogs more or less forget their socially-mandated pretensions to modesty and thoughtfulness, preferring not to venture into the deep snow on either side of the trails, and simply squat there on the trails. Some people pick up after their dogs, or at the very least remove the offal off trail, and some prefer to simply ignore it.

Someone, and certainly not the municipality, has gone to the personal trouble of securely hanging collecting pails on large tree trunks at all the entrances/exits to the ravine trails, with little notes encouraging pick-up. When the plastic liner of the pails becomes full of deposits, those thoughtful, community-spirited people whoever they happen to be, collect what has been deposited and put out fresh collection bags. That is the spirit of altruism.