That we're now finally enjoying perfectly wonderful spring weather would be quite beyond pleasing, if it wasn't accompanied by the grinding fear that stalks our every thought during this time of the global pandemic that has brought such uncertainty to our lives. Certainty in fact, lies in the knowledge that nature and its verities arrive as they always have and should.

We now see on neighbourhood streets on the rare occasion when we're out and about other than hiking through the forest trails, an abundance of people we've never before seen. Elderly people, young families, teens on bicycles, mothers pushing strollers, people walking their pets or jogging. True, the word 'abundance' is over-stretching the reality, it's not as though the streets are full of people. They're not.

As a relative term, however, it works, since usually there's no one out and about other than sitting in a vehicle as it passes. Outdoor living for most people just hasn't been a priority. Even for all those who can, like us, easily approach a natural forested area to enjoy a quiet stroll through forest trails. Of course we have many area parks as well in the neighbourhood, most with children's play sets. When our granddaughter was a young child we would take her there daily, with at least three or four in walking distance of our house.

At the best of times those parks too are never full of people, much less children. Now, however, that so many people are home because so many are employed in government services and are working from home, the opportunity is there to walk about the neighbourhood. For all the traffic on the roadways, people could walk on the roads never bothered by cars whizzing by.

The result is that we see an uptick of people new to the ravine, walking through the trails, but not many. Mostly, they're people we've seen over the years and have become familiar with. When we were out this afternoon with Jackie and Jillie, the temperature was 14C, with a lovely breeze, blue sky and blazing sun. Since the forest canopy will be bare for perhaps another month, the sun really warms right through the forest.

And despite that, there remain areas on the trails stubbornly holding onto ice and snow. But it's like that every year. Those places where there are conifers and the sun doesn't really penetrate, tend to hold the ice for far longer. But the hillsides are now almost all bare of snow, presenting an altogether different landscape, preparing to host emerging vegetation, renewed out of the thawed soil.

When we had been out about three-quarters of an hour on a number of adjoining trails, I suddenly realized the cleats were missing on one of my boots, and felt immediately vulnerable. We turned back to retrace our steps, and it wasn't long before we met up with an acquaintance walking her two dogs, headed in our direction, and in one of her hands, dangled my cleats. She had actually thought they were her husband's, who had lost his a week earlier.

Reunited with the cleats, we turned back the way we had come, to complete the circuit we had decided upon. Twenty minutes later approaching us was a large black Labrador, and with it a young man we've known for some time. He wanted to talk about coyotes because he'd seen them on a few times lately, so evidently relaxed about his presence that he was able, on two occasions, to take some pretty good photographs. And he wanted us to see them, stretching his iphone in our direction, as close as  he dared, to maintain adequate distance. The photos showed quite large animals, to be sure. Our friend's too-close proximity to us made me nervous, and that too was certain.

We continued on, ambling through the trails, hearing a Pileated woodpecker in the near distance, chickadees flirting with one another through the evergreens alongside the trail. No sign of Mourning Cloaks today and likely because the temperature had dipped last night back down to -6C, nipping that new life in the bud. But there will be more, many more, in the days and weeks to come.