We're approaching a full moon, and the moon shone bright in the night sky the last several nights. As it did last night, a waxing gibbous moon. Clear nights usually translate to cold temperatues, and cold was what we got. The temperature plunged below freezing last night yet again.When we got up early this morning, the sky had clouded over, and snow flurries were coming down, as though May was having fun at our expense. The milder, double-digit temperatures have been set aside for the rest of the week. Though even then there w as a a tendency toward frigid, freezing nights.

Friday morning I usually bake a dessert treat, and for today my husband suggested (two days ago, evidently having given his choice some prior thought) that we hadn't had a lemon meringue pie in quite some time. And we hadn't. It has never been one of my favourites to prepare, though as a dessert I have nothing but praise for its taste. I tried a lame, albeit reasonable excuse, that I had no fresh lemons, just lemon juice -- and lemon pie filling calls for grated zest. No matter, he said, breezily, just use the lemon juice.

I did that mental check and thought all right, forget the fresh lemon, we've got fresh oranges, I could use orange zest and lemon juice to produce a citrus pie posing as a lemon pie, and it should work. So that's just what I did. First came the pastry crust, which needed to be prepared and baked, since the filling is cooked, not baked. Then the preparation for the filling. Three extra-large eggs, separated, so the yolks would go into the lemon-custard filling and the whites would produce the meringue.

This dessert is a three-step process; the pie crust, the filling and the meringue. It's time-consuming and requires full attention in the thickening of the filling with cornstarch, carefully adding the beaten yolks so they integrate properly in the simmering thickening lemon liquid. And then making the meringue; spreading the lemon filling into the baked pie shell, arranging the beaten egg whites over that, and baking the pie briefly so the meringue gets browned. My husband wanted his lemon pie, and I wanted to present him with one. And then the nuisance of refrigerating whatever is left over, finding space in an already-crowded refrigerator. Hmmm, is that all I have to complain about?

It was very cool and windy, the temperature rose to no more than 7C, when we set out for the ravine this afternoon. The sun had been out earlier but retired by the time we left the house. We were grateful when it decided to return for part of our hike through the forest trails. We met up with a  young man we've known for quite a while walking his beautiful, laid-back black Labrador, and she had one of his leather gloves clamped firmly in her mouth. He carried the other, knowing how difficult it would be to persuade her to surrender its mate. While we spoke, the Lab made herself comfortable, with no obvious intention of releasing the glove.

It's such a relaxing, important part of our daily lives to get out into the forest confines among the trees and the emerging spring vegetation. Although Jackie and Jillie are less inclined to demonstrating the kind of exuberance they engaged in when they were puppies, our daily outings are vitally important to them, as well. They need that contact with nature, even though it's been constrained ever since we began walking them on leash, rather than allowing them to meander about close to us as we had for years before the area coyotes began showing their presence during daylight hours.

At one juncture in our hike, we came across a hairy woodpecker. The most common of the woodpeckers in our area are the pileated, a giant of a bird, while the next in size, although considerably smaller, is the hairy, and the absolute smallest, the downy woodpecker. All three have red caps on the male birds, with black and white predominating on their feathered bodies. They're beautiful birds and it's fascinating to watch them in action. This little fellow didn't seem to mind our fairly close presence, enabling me to snap a short video.