It felt beyond pleasant, downright luxuriant, to re-acquaint our feet so intimately once again with the forest floor. Not that we went unshod, of course, but what a difference it makes to comfort to finally be able to venture out into the woods without the cleats strapped over our hiking boots. For one thing there is far more sole flexibility sans cleats.

Needless to say, over the winter months it was winter boots the cleats became an essential part of. We never bothered removing them, even once. Just left them on and wore those boots only in the ravine on the forest trails. Without those cleats we'd never have been able to get about on the frozen trails, particularly on ascents and descents.

Hilly terrain of a ravined forested area comes complete with plenty of physical challenges to balance and endurance. Without cleats the effort is highly magnified and with it the opportunity to experience a unique type of accident much increased. Not that we haven't slipped and fallen on the trails regardless. Both of us have.

Me on several occasions which left me fairly battered. So that's the kind of surprise we prefer to avoid. And having the ravine's trails restored to their summer-fall-spring presence represents a much appreciated bonus for us, the rigours of winter hiking passed, for another year.

 Other types of surprises is what we value, not danger to life and limb. Nor having to explain countless times to concerned friends why it is that my face is black and blue, my arms beyond sore, my fingers unwilling to clench into my fist, a persistent hobble breaking my confident stride. So when Jackie came across a little incident on the forest floor that mystified him as a first in his limited experience, we were quick to identify it as the kind of surprise that delights us.

We watched alongside him as what we thought was two small snakes but might have been more than two, writhing, entangling themselves, wriggling and lashing back and forth in the detritus of rotting leaves. What will no doubt eventually result will be a host of more little snakes. Awakened from their winter sleep, it's the sun that now attracts them, as they look for warmth.

They were atop the ridge over the first of the many bridges fording the ravine stream. That's the juncture, down below, representing the longest-lasting stretch of intransigent ice on one of the forest trails, but an important one for us since it leads us to most of the other trails we loop onto.

It was a sunny day, windy, and a high temperature of 10C, so pleasant enough. Whatever the weather conditions outside the forest they tend to be more emphasized within. So at this time of year it's colder in the woods than it is at street level; the wind modified in some areas, and in others not. Conversely, in the hot summer months it tends to be cooler in the ravine, understandably, with the forest canopy shielding the woods from direct sun penetration.