The least that can be said of late is that there is ample entertainment for us in these days and
 evenings, just looking out the front door. Both for us and for Jackie, who remains glued to the door, avidly watching as wild creatures come by, each taking their turn at the offerings on the porch. The really large old raccoon that had taken to coming around regularly at first was frightened by Jackie's and Jillie's noise-making. Now she couldn't care less. She keeps a vigilant eye/ear/nose for anything on the opposite side, toward the street, secure in the knowledge that the two little yappy dogs are all yap and no threat, a solid two doors between them and her.

While she's taking her fill at the front of the house on the porch, another, smaller raccoon does the same at the side of the house. Squirrels take their time, returning time and again; raccoons dig right in until there's nothing left, their clever prehensile hands scooping everything toward their eager mouths. My husband is adamant that since we have begun for another winter providing them with food, we must continue. It's spring now, they can find food far more readily now within their natural surroundings.

Our own surroundings have become unnatural, surreal. Under normal conditions, we rarely see people out and about on the streets. Now, walking down the street with Jackie and Jillie we see neighbours, we see women with strollers, we see children out in the fresh air, exercising themselves, most keeping a distance from one another, where this would never have happened before the novel coronavirus upended our lives.

One little boy pedalling a large plastic clunky and colourful 'tractor' decided to follow us down the street as we passed, the awful racket of the tractor's plastic wheels clacking loudly on the macadam frightening Jackie and Jillie; alarming them to the point of trying to race ahead to distance themselves as much as possible from the threatening sound. We came across another neighbour walking her elderly little dog as a passenger in a child's stroller.

As we carried on, toward other neighbourhood streets, accessing sidewalks on some of them to stroll along and doing our best to avoid the puddles on this 0C-degree day with a nippy wind and wide, blue sky with the sun beaming down on a troubled world, from time to time there are others approaching from the opposite direction. They're young, walking dogs, and remain on the sidewalk while we move ourselves to the road to create a prudent distance.

A couple we've known for decades as neighbours, originally from Hong Kong, were amazed to see us walking on the street with our pups, knowing full well our daily routine of strolling through the forest pathways of the ravine. They would be far better off now, back in Hong Kong, which has had a tight grip on the NOVID-19 virus, than being here in Canada. Another neighbour out walking his little dog, has been holding down the home front; his wife is stuck in Australia, visiting their daughter. He was originally from France, so perhaps he's better off here. What a world.

There's no feeling of peace and tranquility walking along a city street, the snowpack steadily melting, everything looking grimy and miserable, people under strain, the thought of 'what-if' constantly nudging its way front-of-mind. Even Jackie and Jillie seem aware that something is awfully wrong. When we returned home from the walk, they cut lose, ripping through the house, sliding on the area rugs, tussling with one another, following us into the kitchen for a cauliflower treat.

I'm preparing a red lentil soup for dinner. In it is diced carrot, zucchini, garlic, onion, tomatoes and tomato paste, seasoned with fennel and cumin seed, and marsala powder. To accompany the soup I've prepared croissants, setting them aside to rise, before baking them in a hot oven to melt the old cheddar cheese I've grated inside them, together with sesame seed. A comfort type meal on a cold, bright day transitioning from winter to spring.