There are lovely little landscapes everywhere we look now in the ravine as spring is finally getting on with it. Winter has slunk off, no more vestiges of its harsh occupancy in the forest are now left. It appears to take no more than a week from the first slight green appearance of emerging foliage on the deciduous trees to their full-out triumph of dominating the landscape.

These still-early days of spring treat us to surprise bouquets appearing on the forest floor. In one small and crowded space, unfurling ferns, trillium, and Jack-in-the-Pulpit, all making the most of their opportunity to have their day in the sun before the accumulating biomass of the forest canopy shuts off sun penetration.

We've been trotting through the forest trails for so long, have welcomed so many springs that we know where to look for specific colonies of wildflowers in spring. And there, where we greeted them -- or they greeted us last spring and the spring before -- were foamflowers in bloom.

The weather was superb yesterday, a high of 22C, stiff breeze and a warming sun; what more could we possibly want? There weren't many people about when we were out there, but then people get out in the woods at all times of day, some preferring morning walks, others late afternoon strolls in the forest. When we were younger, still in the workforce, we'd often come out at night to troll the trails. Invariably on cloudy winter nights a refracted apricot light sat over the ravine  (not visible from the street) reflecting from the lights of the city off the clouds) completely illuminating our way.

Yesterday, we saw some blues flitting about, heard the pileated woodpecker off in the distance emitting his frenzied, high-pitched call and saw chickadees and an accompanying nuthatch flying in and out of evergreen branches. We also saw a new formation of the first of the tree fungi that we often come across this time of year, but no sign yet of mushrooms popping up on the forest floor in various colours of yellow, orange, purples.

And came across an old ravine acquaintance walking his now-nine-year-old Rottweiler, a gentle and incurious dog who enjoys ambling at his leisure on the trails, more or less ignoring troublesomely rambunctious Jackie and Jillie. Until, that is, he espies the swift passage of a squirrel in the forest interior and then he whips forward to intercept it, perhaps not realizing that he never will.

Jackie and Jillie haven't yet clued in on the fact that when the squirrels elude them, they've gone up, up high in a tree. The sudden disappearance puzzles them. Not this older experienced fellow who knows just where they are, and places his front paws high on the tree trunk they've scampered up, politely requesting it to descend for a heart-to-heart conversation.