So I decided yesterday that a stir-fry would be in order for dinner. Hours ahead I cut up thin strips of beef and marinated them in garlic, soy sauce and olive oil in the refrigerator. At dinner time out came a package of baby Bok Choy, a yellow bell pepper, broccoli, garlic and onion, and the process began. A pot of water was put on the boil for oriental noodles, and after giving Jackie and Jillie their dinner ours got underway. It's pretty quick work to put together, and took no time before all the constituent parts were ready for serving. First the noodles placed on dinner platters, then the vegetables, and the meat sprinkled over.

Earlier, I'd prepared raisins and dried prune plums as a dessert compote, and it worked out quite well as an accompaniment. Nothing I can do about my husband sharing his meals with Jackie and Jillie, absolutely nothing. I roll my eyes, click my tongue, admonish him, and nothing works. I recall before we brought them home to live with us, we discussed things first, and both agreed that there would be no sharing at the dinner table. Hah! My husband does what my husband does.

This morning a perusal of the garden as the snow in the backyard has begun seriously shrinking, revealed a delightful surprise. The first tentative showing of green/red tulip spears emerging from the damp soil with the receding frost. A friendly reminder that spring is indeed here and the warming sun is doing its best to bring things along. While out in the back with Jackie and Jillie, a male cardinal trilled ecstatically from the top of a maple's bare branches; a paeon to spring.

Later in the day we made our way into the ravine under clear blue skies and could feel the warming rays of the sun on our backs, The high for the day was a balmy ten degrees, very welcome. But even that high temperature isn't enough in some parts of the forest trails to soften the ice to a safe, cleat-catching level. Little wonder we see scant others out on the trails for without cleats it remains a little too iffy to venture out.

We had no trouble at all, ourselves, and certainly Jackie and Jillie found it much more tolerable to get about without boots. On the other hand, in some areas where the trails remain plush with snow and ice, the temperature transition and sun exposure has softened the snow to the point of icy mush and we wallow through those areas. Jackie and Jillie do their little dance around the more swamp-like parts, edging their way through woody underbrush to avoid the deep, icy melt.

We hear, on occasion, the thrumming of those giant pileated woodpeckers, and overhead the sound of geese honking their way back from their southern sojourn for the winter months. If a more romantic, nostalgic sound exists, other than the faint whistle far-off of a locomotive, it's beyond my ken. Even that whistle, ghostly and odd, comes through on the rare occasion while we're in the ravine and we've no idea where it emanates from.

Today there were small packs of chickadees popping in and out of cedars, spruce and fir, alongside the trails. Usually where there's chickadees there's also at least one, sometimes a pair, of nuthatches. Today only the spring song of the chickadees reached our ears. We were out for a long time, and to our surprise, realized when we were almost home again that the sky had clouded over.