The group postal box located at the top of our street, just before the entrance to the ravine is now nowhere as important for communication as it once was. True, we picked up a government form from Revenue and Taxation Canada that verified my husband's tax return had no need of correction and his claim has been honoured and deposited to our bank account.

But better, much better, was a post card that was included in the mail we picked up yesterday. Although we pass that box daily on our forays into the co-located ravine entrance, we don't stop very often to unlock the mail slot allotted to our address since like everyone else, most of our business is now conducted online or over the telephone. But there was something precious waiting for us yesterday.

The post card featured a photograph of the vast Alhambra, the fabled citadel and its co-buildings dating back to the 6th century. On the back of the card in neat, tiny printing, was a message from our son -- as detailed as fine print in a limited space will permit -- who was in Andalusia, Granada for the past three weeks. We had already received via emails most of the message contained in the post card, but it was a distinct pleasure to read what he had printed nonetheless. He was enjoying rambling-about in the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and headed out for a few national-park forests on elevated terrain.

Before we had checked the mail yesterday we'd gone for our daily hike with Jackie and Jillie into the wide-ranging semi-urban confines of our nearby ravine and the forest within and about it. After grumbling and complaining for so long about the inclement weather that had posed as our early spring, we've had a sudden turn-about -- entirely consistent with Ottawa's inconsistent weather patterns -- and are now enjoying warm, sunny days interspersed with rain events.

We so very much appreciate the ease and comfort of deciding for a ravine walk at any given time during the day that doesn't include concerns over dressing adequately to ensure we don't freeze to death in the winter, and recognize the imperative of strapping crampons over our boots to avoid disastrous slides on the ice. For us now, the spring accoutrements start and stop with hiking boots, best for the uneven, rough terrain. For Jackie and Jillie it's collar and halter, and off we go. Spontaneity reigns. A way of life that is casual and fits our needs wonderfully well, entirely dispelled when spring and summer have departed.

The incessant rain has resulted in the forest understory and vegetation outdoing itself, achieving height and maturity normally associated with late summer. There are now wild ostrich ferns growing in some parts of the forest beside the trails and under the forest canopy, notable for their size and outreach.

The burdock has already grown to an amazing size, dwarfing Jackie or Jillie. Hard to believe they will still continue to grow and achieve even greater size. At the present time they're as large as they were toward the end of summer, last year, when their size even then amazed us.

Each day as we delve into the ravine and onto the forest trails, we're taken by yet another sighting of yet another remarkable piece of the landscape that unfolds before us as we follow our two little dogs as they forge their way through the trails, occasionally glancing back to ensure we haven't gone astray....