Most definitely Spring is a shy, retiring month in any year, uncertain whether, once she enters, she should stay, preferring to defer to the stubborn presence of Old Man Winter, but surely with mid-April in close approach, she should feel confident enough to inform winter in the most emphatic terms that it was time he departed? We'd be willing to act as diplomatic intermediaries if she wants us to, and we'd be direct about it, but kind, too. No matter, eventually things will sort themselves out.

In the meantime, we once again had snow overnight, all night. To frost the snow that has fallen in the days previous. Which had once again banked up in fluffy presence now that the snow that had accumulated all winter long was receding. But by morning the snow turned to rain. And it rained. And it rained. Eventually the rain stopped. And left in its wake a sloppy mess, as can be imagined. Along with the mystery-presence of fog. The fog remained on the street.

But when we ventured into the ravine once rain had stopped we found in there that it was colder than out on the street, and a fine mist prevailed. Beautiful, with all that new snow, but it's getting a bit tedious as winter gets too long in the tooth and we're feeling increasingly desperate for spring to spring. Jackie and Jillie don't mind the new snow, it serves to excite them and they love racing one another along the trails, in the new stuff.

At our house the presence of more new snow blanketing the seed offerings didn't seem to dampen the enthusiasm of the redpolls who are literally eating us out of seeds, particularly the black oiled sunflower seeds they prefer. We keep buying bag after bag and they consume them relentlessly, loathe to move on to their final northern destination. In their presence we no longer see the birds we're accustomed to viewing, they're keeping their distance with the presence of flocks of redpolls, edging them out of their neighbourhood.

Because Monday is house-cleaning frenzy, I wasn't of a mind to do our usual circuit, and chose a shorter route instead for us. Yet because little Jack and Jill were enjoying themselves so much we thought we'd add a bit to the route, and used an old loop that we hadn't gone on in ages. Many years ago we would occasionally venture that way; it requires a dip into the ravine bypassing the creek, then clambering up another side and on to another trail where some larger trees grow. One of them, a venerable old pine, is the place we have named "Rasputin's tree", after a giant schnauzer that someone occasionally walked along that path. When the large dog came abreast of the tree he would park himself under its huge old branches and bark deeply and convincingly in conversation with the tree.