Yesterday was a literal and quintessential washout. It not only rained from morning to night, but the wind added to the inclemency of the weather. Without the wind and the rain, at a temperature of 13C, we might have celebrated. As it was, the day was so heavily overcast we needed to have lights on in the house throughout the course of the day. At no time yesterday did the rain abate, allowing us to venture out to the ravine. And we had scant hope for today since rain was forecasted for Friday as well.

Our little wild neighbours didn't seem to mind. Squirrels came around regardless, yesterday as did some birds. The rain may have been relentless and beyond heavy at times but the thought of edible treats just kept our friends coming around. At five o'clock sharp, sun or rain in full daylight hours the smaller of the raccoons comes calling. And if the porch floor has been cleared of offerings by the enthusiastic gathering of squirrels, my husband rushes to prepare more for the raccoon. The little fellow has taken to casually awaiting my husband's return with more food, not bothering to vacate the porch and moving right in when the treats have been scattered. Just another week, my husband keeps telling me.

The candidate for this evening's dessert at dinnertime was an apple pie. So while we were having our breakfast I had a pot simmering gently on the stove; in it five very large (Ambrosia) apples sliced, peel left on, with 2/3 c.sugar, 2 tbsp.cornstarch, 1/4 c.cranberry juice,  until the apples were semi-cooked in a thickened sauce to which I added 2 tbsp.butter, 1 tsp.cinnamon and a half-cup raisins.

After breakfast I prepared the pastry dough, just flour, salt, Crisco shortening, lemon juice and ice water, rolling half out for the bottom crust, filling it and fitting the top crust over, then baked it for 40 minutes at 350F. While I was doing that, I put on a chicken soup to simmer away and spread its fragrance through the house in competition with the apple pie. And prepared a simple bread dough to be refrigerated and used later in the week for pizza.

And because although the sky was overcast it was infinitely lighter than yesterday, and no rain was falling after all -- not until evening, the morning's forecast advised, we would have our afternoon hike. So off we went with Jackie and Jillie to plod through the forest trails in the ravine, for the forest floor was well and truly saturated. We expected to see a bit of movement on the wildflower front, given the milder temperature and rain, and sure enough we came across a few patches of coltsfoot emerging from its sodden bed.

And this time, when we approached the area that hosts trout lilies without fail, year after year, there were the leaves poking up out of the soil, in vast carpets of hundreds, though it will yet be some time before the flowers themselves decide to treat us with their delicate yellow presence. We even came across a discreet early little patch of foamflower.

In some parts of the woodland landscape the forest floor is steeped deep in pools and puddles of rain because the soil is incapable of swallowing the full thrust of the entire day's worth of rain; it will sit there for days until finally it is absorbed. The trails are a muddy morass once again. All the more so those trails that bicyclists have zipped through, leaving deep ruts in their wake.

Throughout the forest the stiff wind managed to penetrate, making it seem colder than it actually was. I had left my light gloves at home, feeling they wouldn't be needed, but in hindsight that hadn't been a particularly good decision. Putting light little jerseys on Jackie and Jillie had been, however.

We came across a few more emerging trilliums and it won't be long before their shy little carmine heads appear. We'll have to look at awkward areas on the slopes of the hills to find the more conventional, but larger-headed white trilliums which tend to bloom later than their purple cousins and are less inclined to nod toward the ground.