Never without solutions to irksome situations, my husband suggested last night that when we arose next morning we should plan to shower, set the table for breakfast, then all of us set off in his truck to acquire the flowering plants I was  hoping to be able to get yesterday only to find that though businesses are opening, and gardening centres were declared by the government of Ontario to be 'essential' (perhaps for peoples' mental health), there was so much time-consuming rigamarole involved in accessing most garden centres we had just given up.

The one place where we were able to find what we were looking for was packed with avid gardeners (though everyone managed to keep distance, wore face masks and gloves and behaved quite civilly) but had hardly any stock left in their greenhouses. A paltry few of the plants we wanted. We had never before encountered a situation like it; people so anxious to buy plants, both ornamental and food-bearing that they converged in such numbers that long line-ups to enable entrance to garden centres snaked around blocks.

We would, my husband declared, return to that country setting, avoiding urban and suburban areas, where we have always obtained our plants. Hoping that an earlier hour would prove more fruitful. And though when we arrived early, as it was, there were still many people milling about, yet two of the greenhouses were offering a greater choice and hadn't yet been entirely ransacked. I swiftly acquired all the bewitchingly beautiful flowering plants I wanted, despite finding some I planned for not being available. We dragged the loaded cart to the cashier, and we were done.

In the afternoon, after I had changed our bed linen and coverings to more appropriate spring-summer replacements, finished the laundry, done a bit of weeding of the grass, while my husband mixed soil, peat moss and sheep manure to begin filling our many urns and pots set out in the garden, we all went off for our afternoon hike through the forest trails. Jackie and Jillie had behaved so unlike their usual selves while my husband and I were busy outside; they simply stayed within sneezing distance of wherever we were, a refreshing change.

And so was our ramble through the woods. The influx of people not accustomed to a forest landscape but desperate to find an outdoors area where they could stretch their legs, breathe fresh air, revel in a different scene, has diminished to almost nothing. Now that recreational areas have relaxed their requirements and parks are open, people are returning to their usual pastimes, abandoning the forest trails. Bicyclists had forged new pathways where none had been before down the hillsides, no doubt doing their part for environmental erosion in their search for speed and thrills. They won't be missed.

Those we happened to come across were all people and dogs, that we've known for quite a while. Jackie and Jillie were enthusiastic about seeing some old friends. One in particular, a gorgeous Rhodesian Ridgeback, a shy and gentle creature, they especially were glad to greet.

And we were pleased ourselves to see a few 'firsts' for this spring in the ravine. The first of the red baneberry we've seen emergent, a long way from maturity but already bearing its floral spray to be transformed into brilliant shiny red clusters of berries -- deadly but beautiful in late summer. And another fruit-bearing plant, one more familiar to most people, wild strawberries have now begun their flowering period, and by mid- to-late June tiny, delicious strawberries will be shining in the sun piercing the forest canopy and glancing through the forest floor.