Today is about as perfect a spring day for the fourth day of April as might be hoped for. Wandering about in the backyard with Jackie and Jillie this morning, I took a short but keen look-about in the garden. That part of the garden, that is, where the snow and ice has finally melted. Most of it is now gone. There are remaining hold-outs where year-by-year it always takes the snowpack longer to go. The backyard usually loses its snow long before the front of the house does, and this year will be no different, although everything else about this year is most decidedly different.

I could see that the Corkscrew Hazel has started putting out buds in some discrete places. The irises and the lilies have sent their sharp green spears out of the warming soil. Canterbury Bells are in slight evidence here and there. Some of the rose shrubs have put out a little green on some stalks, and emerging red buds tell me that by June we should be seeing some roses in bloom. It's a start. There is a lot more to go. The tulips will of course be first to give us some colour, and their red shoots are readily seen, pushing through the soil.

In the ravine, the receding snow is releasing pine and spruce seedlings from their wintry prison. It's fascinating to see how many tiny conifer seedlings there are, actually. Their presence will be hidden in summer when the forest floor will be rife with all manner of other vegetation. There was ample sun today, and still is, along with light white clouds moving briskly across a wide, blue sky, like sheep in a meadow. The temperature soared to 14 degrees by the time we ventured out in early afternoon.

One of the neighbouring families living right beside the entrance to the ravine has taken to placing a little circle of lawn chairs beyond their front door, where they can all sit together quietly in the fresh air, enjoying the sun on their faces. An early dose of vitamin D. They're a young family, the two siblings are in their early 20s, yet we've seldom seen any of them using the forest trails beyond their home for pleasure and physical recreation.

And, of course, it's Saturday, which means that we could expect to see more people than usual cruising through the forest trails. We were out ourselves along various trails in the system we usually do a circuit in with Jackie and Jillie, for about an hour and a half, enjoying the freedom of movement, feeling how fortunate we are. During that time we must have come across at least a dozen people, mostly with dogs hauling them through the trails.

At one point we stopped before fording one of the bridges over the ravine's creek, to allow three young teens to bicycle their way through and maintain a reasonable distance. At this juncture, parts of the ravine are actually free of snow and ice, whereas other areas remain steeped deep in both snow and ice, the ice on the trails at least six inches in depth. As the boys passed, I recommended they take care on the icy trails ahead. None gave any indication of having heard me. Likely so accustomed to hearing admonitions of care from their parents, immune to hearing anything similar from someone they don't know.

At times when the sun prioritized its place in the sky, sending the clouds tumbling off temporarily, the forest seemed ablaze in light, and we began feeling the warmth of that blazing orb in tandem with the warmth we generated internally from our physical exertions. By the time we arrived  home, we were well and truly exercised. Then the usual ritual of cleaning forest-acquired dirt off Jackie's and Jillie's paws occupied us briefly, followed by a quick vacuuming of the needles and other detritus we bring in on our cleated boots.