My husband seems quite seized with his self-appointed 'responsibility' to feed our local wildlife. They are obligingly grateful as evidenced by their constant presence on our porch. My husband as area custodian of wildlife mealtimes, begins to lay out the offerings from five in the wee hours of the morning until around midnight. At least five times a day he cuts various types of bread (he shops for day-old bread) into cube shapes, takes cupfuls of sunflower seeds, of peanuts and great scoops of dog kibble to lay them out in neat little rounds on the porch.

A 14 kg bag of kibble now lasts less than a week before he hies himself off to get another. We're not certain whether the kibble is of any interest to the squirrels, certainly not to the birds, but it's a great hit with the raccoons. They come around at all hours of the day, all sizes, from oldsters to juveniles to babies. We've seen some that are cat-sized but they come around only at night.

And early last night for the first time we saw a mother raccoon with her two very young ones -- this time the size of kittens -- on the porch, all feeding comfortably. I tried to take photographs but the clarity is completely missing when it's so dark and that's a pity because the kits are so adorable.

Yesterday was nice and mild, but windy and the atmosphere was quite moisture-permeated. The sun made a quick survey of the situation early in the morning, then decided it would take itself off elsewhere for the day. We left the house shortly after cleaning up from breakfast, figuring we'd better get out there with Jackie and Jillie if we planned to have a hike in the ravine because it was certain that the high humidity gave ample warning of rain to come.

We were most of the way through our circuit when light rain began, stopped briefly, returned and accompanied us for the remainder of our ramble on the forest trails before we emerged and made our way home. It's so wet on many of the trails, steeped in muck from constant rain that washing our two little dogs' feet has become a feat indeed. Numerous applications of warm water is required before their feet begin to resemble a presentable state.

While we were out we were amazed to see here and there, tiny outcroppings of groups of Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Decades ago they were to be seen in only one discrete part of a trail in the depths of the ravine, alongside a rivulet that represents one of the many arms of the major creek. Gradually over the years we began to see others here and there. And now in the most unexpected places there they are, those neat little pulpits with their purple-striped petal.

We came across Rod walking Nova -- or perhaps it's somewhat more accurate to reverse that since Nova trots briskly along far in advance of Rod, a giant of a man himself with a long stride, but no match for a white German Shepherd still a puppy who goes into throes of exuberant greeting mode whenever he comes across us. Actually, Nova, like Jackie and Jillie, can hear and smell the imminent arrival of others and makes haste to meet them halfway, as he did with us, yesterday.

Now, when we're completed our walk in the forest, and come out on the street as we approach our house we can see in the near distance the incomparable beauty of the older-of-our-two Magnolia trees, with its large saucer flowers now in full pink bloom. It has given us early spring pleasure for decades. And each year it adds to its girth and reach, producing more buds as it continues to grow.

And we were beyond fortunate in another way. Once returned, it took no time at all for the rain to descend in a fury of waterfall-quality strength. Heavy rain continued for hours; another occasion where we were able to enjoy our usual circuit and then enjoy the rain from the comfort of our dry home.