Well, we're on the cusp of once again indulging in that silly annual ritual of pushing time forward. In the process we 'lose' an hour, one we had 'gained' in the fall. It's a tradition that sticks around far longer than its usefulness evaporated, and surely it's time it was done away with.

It's hard not to note that we're now enjoying two more hours of daylight at this point in the calendar from the time that winter had declared itself, when dusk began falling at four in the afternoon, and now waits until a more decently acceptable time of six.

This area is now being coddled by a suddenly-compassionate Mother Nature with moderated temperatures. While normal for this time of year hovers around highs in the one-degree range, we're enjoying seven and eight degrees. We've had several days of rain; yesterday an afternoon rain and fog. That, and the milder temperatures add up to accelerated snow-melt. There's plenty to go. There is none left where our daughter lives, about 100 kilometers distant from us, and in a southerly direction. Here, there's ample, likely a foot and a half to go in the forest of the ravine.

It was a tightrope act walking the trails in the ravine yesterday. The trails themselves are hardened ice due to all the traffic they get, but if anyone is incautious enough to place a boot too far to the left or the right, they soon find themselves lurching into a softened, but still deep snowpack, and sometimes splayed completely out within it. We've managed to negotiate the trails with no problems.

We did watch as a King Charles spaniel, curious about something a bit off the trail -- while we were speaking with its owners, long-time acquaintances of ours -- actually ended up swimming and energetically humping through the snow, to find its way out of the white, wet swamp it had become, too lofty for its short legs to navigate. Jack and Jill have been pretty good about not straying too far off the trails, although they've done their share of floundering.

The creek is now in flood as a result of the rain and the melting snowpack. It's a dirty muddy colour and it has widened its presence considerably with the energetic flow. It smells of both muck and methane gases, working their way up from the creek bottom by the vigour of the rushing water.

The melting snow is revealing all manner of detritus, organic stuff both rude and rudimentary.