In terms of volume and frequency it often seems as though we see far more of our wild neighbours than we ever do of our domesticated neighbours, for the latter seldom seem to venture out of their homes, even in good weather, other than to slip into their garages, start up the family vehicle, spin out of their driveways headed to unknown destinations, and on the return trip, the reverse occurs without their ever having to, heaven forfend, peruse their near neighbourhood.

We don't mind; we see those who matter to us on occasion, and with whom we've long enjoyed good relations. Mohindar is never averse to walking down to our place when we're out and about to have a good chat, and now that Margaret is back on her feet she too saunters by from time to time. Others of our long acquaintance may happen to be out doing yardwork and everyone has the opportunity to 'catch up' with neighbourly news.

It is always the younger generation, who have moved in when old neighbours move on, with or without children, with or without a family pet, who seem to be ghost figures; you know they're there, somewhere, you just don't see any of them.

Wildlife, on the other hand, are always out and about, and we take especial pleasure in seeing them. Looking out the glassed front door our porch is seldom without a polite visitor or two or three. On occasion they behave somewhat less than polite to one another, viewing an interloper as a challenger for the nuts, seeds, kibble and bread my husband lays out for them, but in the end everyone gets accommodated.

Yesterday the pools in the forest had almost dried up. Overnight rain has since reversed that, but when we were out with Jackie and Jillie the trails were nowhere near as soaked as they have been, during yesterday afternoon's trail walks. Light jackets were needed since although the temperature high sat at 18C, the wind as usual emphatically made it seem cooler.

All the rain has finally brought into evidence the presence of overnight pop-up mushroom colonies. Some of them tend to be colonies that remain underground for years on end, hard at work and from time to time pop up above the surface of the leaf mass, or atop old tree stumps. Others are partially hidden within the confines of an old tree trunk's lower portions, appearing in seried ranks of perfectly sized minuscule elvin caps. Some we recognize from years past, and others are new eruptions.

The trout lilies are now in full glory, lifting their bright little yellow heads, eliciting our admiration as we hike along the trails. The trilliums continue to appear and to bloom, their bright red flowers punctuating the sere desiccated foliage of generations of fall leaves. The spring flower succession is in full display, catching our eyes as we wander the edges of the trails.

We occasionally come across a garter snake comfortable in the same leaf mulch that incites the vegetation to outdo itself as this time of year, as dogwood and hazelnut, honeysuckle and tree saplings fully leaf out. We wouldn't even notice them other than for the fact that if they move, that movement catches our attention.

And then, we saw the first of the Jack-in-the-Pulpits to emerge, that mysterious little wildflower with its single, purple-striped petal, shyly folded over the vase of its graceful shape.