Finally, if we're not being precipitate in our estimation and hope even now, in mid-April, it seems that winter has departed. In the micro-climate of our backyard, most of the snow is now gone, revealing the damp, dark richness of the garden soil and the early presence of familiar plants thrusting themselves out of the soil. Like the bleeding hearts that are now evidencing their determination toward achieving brief springtime glory.

It is now so warm out, the sun sailing high and bright in the sky, nary a cloud to be seen that there is no need for a jacket, even a sweater to wear comfortably roaming around the garden, Jackie and Jillie following me, trying to figure out what I might be doing. Assessing prospects, that's what.

In the ravine we cannot yet forego boots and cleats, since there are ample areas where the snow remains thick and sludgy, and the trails are slippery on the downhill. But it won't be long, now.

Our son in Vancouver kayaked along the Skajit River a few days ago, a trip he takes both spring and fall. And because he knows how much I enjoy the photographs he takes, he sent along a few of those he had taken. Camping on the sand bars, he said, was beautiful as usual, and although the mountains surrounding him were still snow-filled, the snow is melting steadily under the influence of milder than normal temperatures there.

On the sandbars during the day the temperature soared to 22 degrees, and it made for a perfect atmosphere, heightening the sense of complete relaxation and spurring the appeal of his trip to aesthetic perfection.