We've now heard our first spring robin bursting his heart out with an expression of brilliantly-noted joy in the anticipation of spring. It is an unforgettable paean to how all living creatures feel with the primal arousal lodged deep in our being that renewal is on its way.

We've heard the exquisite notes of cardinals, seen their carmine-bright bodies in flight, and heard the great Pileated woodpecker returning to the forest, sending its triumphant and slightly lunatic call resounding over the forest canopy, as well as nuthatches and chickadees all overcome with joy at the prospect of spring's final arrival.

And then there are the human denizens of this area who also appear anxious to welcome the oncoming season. When we set out for our afternoon walk in the ravine yesterday there was the indelible track of an ordinary bicycle wheel crimped into the hard-packed snow-and-ice trail that was just beginning to denaturize under the influence of the sun and milder weather. We had seen, a few times during the winter months, people struggling with a new type of bicycle with balloon tires meant for rough terrain.

It is a little precipitate for ordinary bicycles, however, to make their way through the ravine on any of the trails, without hazarding getting truly bogged down where sun has made its impact and created deep slush piles on the trails, or the reverse, where the sun cannot penetrate and there is more than enough cold lifting off the frozen forest floor to ensure that the trails remain firm and ice-glazed.

Yesterday's atmosphere was a gentler reflection of that of the day before; not quite as cold, at -2C, the wind not quite as briskly icy, and the wide open blue sky similar on both days, the sun a brilliant gold disk of fiery light and gaining warmth. Our two little dogs don't tend to confide in one another how fortunate they are to have daily access to this heaven-on-earth, but they do behave as though they are somewhat aware of that realization. As for us, the thought is never far from mind.

As we neared the end of yesterday's circuit through the forest trails to begin the long haul up the last of the hills onto the street we live on, three young men, probably in their 18th year, came along behind, carrying snowboards. One of the trio, fully hirsute, carried a shovel as well. Clearly they were grooming some areas on the  hillsides to add to their snowboarding pleasure. We exchanged greetings and they made for the top of the hill  just beyond the trail which was once thickly covered with mature trees.

Late last autumn that slope was reforested with poplars and pines, replacing the originals after remedial work had been done to stop the hillside deterioration that had taken place the spring before. So, apart from saplings dotting the hillside, there are stakes pounded into the hillside beside each immature tree. And besides those, there are long rows of environmental 'piping' meant to disintegrate with time, and holding grass seed intended to flourish on the slope. The entire hillside for the uninitiated just looks like a snow slope, perfect for skiing or snowboarding.

We informed the young men of what lay beneath the snow, and that it might be dangerous to snowboard down and get caught by any of those impediments. The young bearded fellow, smiled and took off, his board carrying him gracefully down the slope as he faultlessly looped his way swiftly to its bottom.