Now that Ontario in general and Ottawa in particular is beginning a three-part plan to gradually 'open' the languishing economy through the shutdown in the wake of the novel coronavirus efforts to put a stop to the vicious infectious rate rampant everywhere, we dream of being able after all to plan for the gardening season. Beyond planning, actually procuring bedding plants and arranging the summer garden, filling up the garden pots with bright, insouciant, colourful flowering plants!

We'd bought seed packets when they were available, imagining that there wouldn't be an opportunity to access bedding plants. Dreadful videos which had shown tonnes and tonnes of bedding plants being composted in Holland because they were unable to export them, lingered in our minds. In another two weeks Victoria Day will arrive; it's the traditional planting season here, when we can be assured (hah!) there will be no more night time frosts to devastate tender new plants.

And residents of the area have been informed through the news that gardening centers and nurseries will be open to the public after all, as a general opening up of local businesses all of which have suffered so badly during this uncertain time, many of which are also forced by circumstances to declare bankruptcy and close their premises.

Last night the temperature dropped to -4C, and the wind was really wicked. Today? A high of 5C, but a monstrously blustery wind, making it infinitely colder in actuality. But sun, there has been sun. On the other hand, we've also had bursts now and again of snow flurries. Not gentle occasional flakes of snow sifting on a breeze, but what resembles white-out conditions; brief but miserable.

We'd quite enjoyed last night's dinner; the usual, chicken soup and rice. Chicken in a gravy of mushrooms and carrots served over more rice (my husband adores rice, and so do I), with steamed cauliflower on the side. And the piece de resistance ... the orange-lemon-meringue pie. Which was both tart and sweet and quite, quite delicious. Jackie and Jillie shared the chicken soup and the chicken and the cauliflower, but dessert was denied them, poor little tykes.

I did a little more of the spring cleaning this morning, tackling some of the kitchen cupboards. My husband went looking through some of the sketches he had previously done, looking for inspiration to draw a design for another stained glass door. Previous such doors have featured aquatic scenes (for the bathrooms) and others woodland landscapes. Some of the larger windows were created by my husband in bright colours reflecting exotic locales, far from our own vegetation and bird life.

We went out into the Arctic cold a little earlier in the afternoon than usual this day. Not bursting with energy and an inclination to face the weather, mind. But that's the thing about having companion dogs, their needs are translated to your needs. It's good for all of us to get out, and out we got. Hauling out warm little sweaters for the puppies only to discover that since they've become very  hairy, missing their scheduled grooming because of the lockdown, a lot of Jillie's wardrobe is just too tight on her. Not so for Jackie because he's a little stringbean.

So we were treated to occasional warming moments while on the forest trails when the sun came out and shivered when it disappeared and allowed the wind and the snow flurries to do their utmost to make us uncomfortable. Enough so that I hauled my semi-winter jacket's hood over my head to stem the icy feel of wind-blasted snow.

At one point as we ascended one of the ravine trails we came across two little shih tzu dogs, eager to play with Jackie and Jillie, bounding about with energy and sheer unadulterated glee at the freedom to romp about on the trails. On other occasions, larger dogs, bursting with happiness and unbridled zest for life ripped through the trails, teasing Jackie and Jillie to run after them. We're really tempted to let them off the leash, and may in the future do that, to allow them the same freedom they've so long been accustomed to, and the presence of coyotes during the winter months persuading us to curtail their liberties.

At one point on the trail, we saw some distance ahead of us a group of three older girls in their teens, just as joyful as the dogs, giggling, hugging one another and clearly making the most of this time away from adult eyes so they could indulge in the familiar intimacy that young girls morphing into women delight in sharing. As we approached, all of them clambered uphill to allow us to pass with ample space on the narrow trail with hillsides rising on either side, grinning broadly.

We consider ourselves so fortunate. We live in a paradise. One we cannot sufficiently praise and enjoy. External concerns, as real and as threatening as they are, well tempered by our living experiences to shield us from being overwhelmed by dire situations we are helpless to counter other than in the small ways that we can, and avoiding close contact with other human beings themselves revelling in the joy of life seems contrary to everything about us as gregarious animals.