Yesterday afternoon during our ravine ramble we sighted the first butterfly of the season. Of course we saw its shadow flitting through the trees before we saw the butterfly itself, on this sunny day. However, alerted to its presence, we soon made out its outline briefly before it disappeared, a first-of-the-season Mourning Cloak. Named for its sober, dark appearance, dusky charcoal-grey to black wings with a lighter rim, these are the first butterflies we see every spring, a welcome sight for us.

In the morning now, from our backyard garden we hear the beautifully lyrical song of the song sparrow, returned from its southern haven throughout the winter months. And at night we can hear the deep voice of the returned barred owls beginning their nesting season in the forest trees of the ravine. Its distinctive soft yet penetrating voice wafts from the ravine over to our backyard.

We've finally been embraced with springlike weather, complete with wide, blue-blue skies, a burning sun whose kiss is swiftly melting the snowpack in the forest, and light breezes to complement days that hover around 13C to 17C, exactly what we've been yearning for. In this area, a full month later than elsewhere where the weather tends to be more moderate than ours.

No need now for Jackie and Jillie to wear cold-protective jackets. They're free now of their various coats from lighter ones to heavier types reflecting the weather. We do have them wear their harness since we never use their leashes attached to their neck collars. So they're free from all constraints and able to lope along the trails to their hearts' content.

And so are we, wearing the lightest of jackets, and replacing our winter boots with hiking boots. Over which we still have to strap our cleats to take us safely over those areas of the forest trails that remain packed with ice, resistant to melt because they're in areas that are perpetually shaded from the sun.