First thing my husband always looks for when he brings in the morning papers is the weather forecast. Today: a humid  temperature high of 30C, with chance of thunderstorms and 70% chance of rain. Which triggers visions of no opportunity in the afternoon for a tramp through the forest trails. So we dialogued with Jackie and Jillie and they were firm in their belief we should head out to the ravine instanter. Breakfast could wait.

And who, after all, are we to argue with their natural wisdom? We made quick work of getting dressed, filling the sink in the laundry room adjacent the garage with soapy water to wash off mucky little puppy paws on our return, and off we went. No one out and about on the street. And a cool, windy, overcast morning. So cool, we needed light jackets.

The overnight rain from the night before last and a short-lived rainfall yesterday had done a impressive job of soaking the forest floor; though no puddles remained, the soil was dark and damp, and obviously more to follow. We thought it best to miss both the oncoming heat and the high chance of rain. Alongside the trail before we met up with the creek at the ravine bottom, we realized that the same colony of poison ivy that we'd noted the year before was now in residence. And fairly close by woodland phlox was blooming.

The cool wind that kept mosquitoes and black flies down was likely ushering in the change of weather, but we felt fairly assured we'd make it through a long circuit on the network of trails before rain fell, and we did. Once again, we had trail companions, unselfconscious and too busy to notice our presence. Even with Jackie and Jillie hot on their trail, so to speak, the robins seemed not to care at our close presence.

They simply continued scooting about on the trails, just a few feet ahead of us. No sign of the sparrows that were doing the same thing yesterday, but  a surprising number of robins, likely all juveniles as they seem to hang together. We wished them luck in their preoccupation with searching out earthworms, grubs, minuscule bits of gravel. Jackie and Jillie have become familiar with their presence and make no effort to chase them.

The birds' preferred method of locomotion on the trails is beyond entertaining. They look serious and amusing, scurrying about on their busy little feet, forward, sideways, circling, lifting off for a few seconds' advance, then the pattern repeats itself.

Later, in the afternoon, I spoke with my kid sister. Finally the Toronto Public Library is re-opening and she'll be able to access her choice of audio books again through the CNIB. No one shops for them; like us they venture out to do their own supermarket shopping. They've found they no longer have to wait in lineups outside. At the No Frills where they shop, it's inconvenient for them, due to my sister's health, to exit their condominium apartment before ten; nonetheless, when they show up they're escorted directly into the store, a concession for the elderly.

I also had a long conversation with our daughter-in-law's mother, now 90. She lives alone in the farmhouse she and her husband bought ages ago just outside Truro in Nova Scotia. Her son and daughter-in-law, both schoolteachers, had built a house of their own on the 100+acre farm, so they're neighbours. And as neighbours and close relatives they do the banking and food shopping for her. Her major source of contact with others is the telephone to maintain relations with some friends and neighbours. She and her son have put in a garden beside the house again, and she can already see her green beans coming along, but Nova Scotia has been plagued with cooler-than-normal weather this year and they've had to cover the plants at night for protection, due to frost warning the last week.

Our own garden is devoted entirely to flowers. There was a time when we grew herbs and tomatoes, but no longer. The visual pleasure we obtain in viewing the garden, and the entertainment quotient we derive from working in the garden speak to a measure of quality of life for us that we treasure and will as long as we're able to.

Of course during my conversation with the two women, the inevitable topic of the novel coronavirus came up and consumed a good deal of our speaking time. Discussion of the fallout of the disease on society and in particularly on those most vulnerable at home and abroad attracts our interest and directs conversations. Mostly, we agree that we've suffered mere inconveniences in comparison to those whose employment has been affected, and who live in penury, much less those whose health is afflicted with the virus.

All of which gives us a state of heightened awareness and a keener appreciation of just how fortunate we are to be inconvenienced, and not have our lives turned inside out to live with despair and fear of the future.