Somehow I never imagined that nearing the middle of May this year I would still be preparing cold-weather meals. But of course I have been, given the extremely cold nights we've been stuck in of late. So yesterday I put together my favourite winter soup, lentil-tomato-zucchini-carrot, and baked cheese-sesame-seed croissants. And prepared a few devilled eggs for my husband to supplement the soup. He eats only one bowl, I slurp down two.
The temperature dipped to -5C last night and is on schedule to do the same again tonight. Regardless, today turned out to be a much milder day than yesterday, the sun full out, and an afternoon high of 11C, though the wind remained blustery. Out on the street it seemed quite tolerably moderate, in our backyard even more so.
Once into the ravine however, it was another story altogether. Which is surprising given that usually when we're in the forest, wind doesn't tend to penetrate, for the most part. But the low temperatures of the last week during the night lingers in the forest throughout the day, particularly in the low-lying valleys, even though the sun can still penetrate through the forest canopy, only now just beginning to leaf out.
We had noticed for the first time yesterday, looking out at various points on the trails that serve as ingress to the ravine from different streets in the community, that cars are heavily parked alongside those entrance points. Far more than at the entrance point on our own street. We had assumed that the crowds of people we've been seeing, particularly more son on the weekends, arrived directly from the nearby streets with access to the ravine. Apparently, not so. People are driving distances from who-knows-where, to access the forest trails.
Yesterday, we were informed by one of our ravine-hiking acquaintances that Gatineau Park, that great and wonderful forest preserve over the border into Quebec has been re-opened. It's operated by the National Capital Commission as a federal nature preserve. When our children were young we would take them to the area in all seasons, and there we would picnic, pick berries, canoe, hike, swim in the lakes or snowshoe in the winter, so regularly we regarded that great area as a second home, becoming familiar with long, meandering trails where we'd never see another soul. To access the area is a mere half-hour drive from our home.
But since we moved 30 years ago to our present home with such easy access to a forest preserve, albeit infinitely more limited in scope and area than Gatineau, we rarely visit it now. Over the years it began accommodating greater numbers of people, discovering what we had decades earlier. Areas that were once absent of people now can be teeming with people. Much has changed over the years.
So we're grateful to be able to daily access the forest adjacent our community without having to drive anywhere. And while Gatineau is now 'open', it isn't really. All the parking lots with access to various trail systems are locked down. Anyone hoping to drive to any point in Gatineau Park, cannot. Those scant few people who live within walking distance of trails though, can go into the park, which won't necessarily bring them to favoured sites, but will allow them the freedom to enjoy the forest.
While within a semi-urban area like ours, the opposite prevails. Which makes little sense. These lockdown conditions under the novel coronavirus threat can be confusingly illiterate. Regulations that make little practical sense and which people chafe at with good reason, reflecting the fact that authorities often don't really know how to administer their duties, particularly in the face of a monstrous threat like COVID-19.
As for us, there can be few complaints. We are fortunate and we appreciate that. We can shelter in our homes, remain socially distant, yet emerge when we wish to, and delve into a forest to breathe fresh air, exercise our limbs, enjoy a beautiful, ever-changing landscape, and socialize at a distance with others we're familiar with, while putting up with strained circumstances, attempting safe distances on sometimes-narrow trails.
It was cold and windy today, but the sun was warm and illuminated everything. Enticing the trout lilies to seriously begin their bloom and the trilliums as well. Not in lavish numbers, but a few here and a few there, satisfying our hunger for colour and wildflower surprises.
And there are always surprises of one kind or another. One other kind would be when Jackie and Jillie are given the occasion to make the acquaintance of other dogs. Dogs which, generally speaking, are always far more civil than our two in their approach to others. Today, Jackie and Jillie met a pair of really tiny dogs, little hairy shrimps, a brother and sister like themselves, but much older, at 11 years to their four.
The two little dogs were curious and friendly, unfazed in the presence of much larger dogs. Jackie and Jillie are supposed to be toy Poodles, but they're of a size more resembling miniature than toy, even though the toy-breed personality is evident in them. The two newcomers evinced courage and civility alongside independence. Absolutely sweet little companions for the mature couple walking them.
The temperature dipped to -5C last night and is on schedule to do the same again tonight. Regardless, today turned out to be a much milder day than yesterday, the sun full out, and an afternoon high of 11C, though the wind remained blustery. Out on the street it seemed quite tolerably moderate, in our backyard even more so.
Once into the ravine however, it was another story altogether. Which is surprising given that usually when we're in the forest, wind doesn't tend to penetrate, for the most part. But the low temperatures of the last week during the night lingers in the forest throughout the day, particularly in the low-lying valleys, even though the sun can still penetrate through the forest canopy, only now just beginning to leaf out.
We had noticed for the first time yesterday, looking out at various points on the trails that serve as ingress to the ravine from different streets in the community, that cars are heavily parked alongside those entrance points. Far more than at the entrance point on our own street. We had assumed that the crowds of people we've been seeing, particularly more son on the weekends, arrived directly from the nearby streets with access to the ravine. Apparently, not so. People are driving distances from who-knows-where, to access the forest trails.
Yesterday, we were informed by one of our ravine-hiking acquaintances that Gatineau Park, that great and wonderful forest preserve over the border into Quebec has been re-opened. It's operated by the National Capital Commission as a federal nature preserve. When our children were young we would take them to the area in all seasons, and there we would picnic, pick berries, canoe, hike, swim in the lakes or snowshoe in the winter, so regularly we regarded that great area as a second home, becoming familiar with long, meandering trails where we'd never see another soul. To access the area is a mere half-hour drive from our home.
But since we moved 30 years ago to our present home with such easy access to a forest preserve, albeit infinitely more limited in scope and area than Gatineau, we rarely visit it now. Over the years it began accommodating greater numbers of people, discovering what we had decades earlier. Areas that were once absent of people now can be teeming with people. Much has changed over the years.
So we're grateful to be able to daily access the forest adjacent our community without having to drive anywhere. And while Gatineau is now 'open', it isn't really. All the parking lots with access to various trail systems are locked down. Anyone hoping to drive to any point in Gatineau Park, cannot. Those scant few people who live within walking distance of trails though, can go into the park, which won't necessarily bring them to favoured sites, but will allow them the freedom to enjoy the forest.
While within a semi-urban area like ours, the opposite prevails. Which makes little sense. These lockdown conditions under the novel coronavirus threat can be confusingly illiterate. Regulations that make little practical sense and which people chafe at with good reason, reflecting the fact that authorities often don't really know how to administer their duties, particularly in the face of a monstrous threat like COVID-19.
As for us, there can be few complaints. We are fortunate and we appreciate that. We can shelter in our homes, remain socially distant, yet emerge when we wish to, and delve into a forest to breathe fresh air, exercise our limbs, enjoy a beautiful, ever-changing landscape, and socialize at a distance with others we're familiar with, while putting up with strained circumstances, attempting safe distances on sometimes-narrow trails.
It was cold and windy today, but the sun was warm and illuminated everything. Enticing the trout lilies to seriously begin their bloom and the trilliums as well. Not in lavish numbers, but a few here and a few there, satisfying our hunger for colour and wildflower surprises.
And there are always surprises of one kind or another. One other kind would be when Jackie and Jillie are given the occasion to make the acquaintance of other dogs. Dogs which, generally speaking, are always far more civil than our two in their approach to others. Today, Jackie and Jillie met a pair of really tiny dogs, little hairy shrimps, a brother and sister like themselves, but much older, at 11 years to their four.
The two little dogs were curious and friendly, unfazed in the presence of much larger dogs. Jackie and Jillie are supposed to be toy Poodles, but they're of a size more resembling miniature than toy, even though the toy-breed personality is evident in them. The two newcomers evinced courage and civility alongside independence. Absolutely sweet little companions for the mature couple walking them.
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