Yes, it was very cold last night since the temperature dropped from an afternoon high of 8C to -2C overnight. The motion-response light at the side of the house kept coming on, because of the really rough wind which of course exacerbated the cold temperature, making it seem that winter was merely prevaricating as usual when it finally agreed to move over for spring's tardy arrival. To be sure, it may have moved, but not far enough to the exit.

Proof positive? The landscape's appearance when we made our sleepy-headed way downstairs for breakfast this morning. We always pause briefly at the glass-fronted door looking out onto the porch and the front gardens. This time we paused a little longer than usual. In a state, perhaps of mild disbelief. There, on the ragged-looking front lawn which had just a few days ago shed its snow-and-ice pack, was new, fluffy snow chilling the bedraggled grass ready to make a come-back.

On the good news side, there was now plenty of blue sky. It was cold, though, and the rough-neck wind was continuing to abrade the temperature. Still, with the sun beaming down on the landscape, we knew that the snow would soon disappear and rescue those poor little bright-hearted crocuses that had popped through the garden soil yesterday. That expectation wasn't wasted.

For their part, when Jackie and Jillie went out to the backyard first thing, they weren't the least bit fazed. They seemed, in fact, quite delighted that their plumply fuzzy white friend had returned.

By the time we decided we were all ready for a nice long ravine hike, no snow was left anywhere. Other than in the ravine itself, of course. That area of the forest trails that we always first approach once we've made our way to the bottom of the ravine. We now bypass it in favour of an entirely different route; not necessarily by choice nor inclination, but necessity, since we ditched our cleats yesterday.

Some of the trails are now good and dry, while others are steeped deep in muck. But unlike the trail still tightly hugging its thick ice covering, the muddy areas can mostly be avoided. The forest floor is so drenched in snowmelt that all the rain that fell in the past few weeks seems to have accommodated itself to a new role; presenting as pool after swampy pool on the flat upper heights of the forest.

The catkins on the hazelnut shrubs in the forest understudy are now pale brown and fuzzy, ready to send their seed spores in any direction the wind instructs them to. We can now see the most minute bits of foliage, bright green tinged with red, on some of the vegetation, and when we lift our eyes to the forest canopy, some of the deciduous trees are most definitely budding out new foliage. All in good time.

No signs yet of trout lilies emerging from the sodden soil, nor trilliums, and only the small patch of coltsfoot close by the creek are in bloom. Areas where coltsfoot flaunt their bright yellow floral heads that we recall from previous years are not yet in evidence. Patches of partridgeberry clinging to the forest floor are deep, dark green, steeped in the dry, fallen foliage of last fall, but no sign yet of of their tiny white trumpet-blooms that will become bright red berries.

We passed a few people, some with dogs, some people we know, others not, during our long circuit. Most acknowledge the critical courtesy of maintaining a cautious distance. It's just as well for those who don't appear to be very aware of the need to do so, that not many people tend to go out for occasional forays on the forest trails.