Oops, wrong again. We fooled ourselves into believing that the new interest of the wider community in the forested ravine that winds itself through this geographic location was on the ebb. We'd come across few non-regular forest trail hikers in the past week, and assumed that since parks and other social outdoor sites have seen relaxed-use rules and shopping centers have re-opened, people would be too focused on re-assuming 'normalcy' to want to continue accessing the forest trails. How wrong today's experience turned that supposition out to be.

We'd spent some time as usual puttering about in the garden in the morning. Jackie and Jillie happy to be out as long as we were. It's a cool day, quite unlike summer, more like early spring. There was a perfectly clear sky yesterday so since we've been enjoying quite cool nights of late it wasn't all that surprising that the temperature would drop close to the frost mark, at 4C. The incessant wind of course made it seem even chillier.

But no question, we're on our way to summer, as gradual as that process is. Brilliant sunshine flooded through our bedroom windows this morning. It's the key to Jackie and Jillie waking a little earlier and urging us to do the same. Early for us isn't necessarily early for early-risers. My husband was once one of those peculiar people who'd rise with the sun, at an earlier time of his life. I've had a decidedly poor influence on his diurnal rhythm over the years. He now tends to linger in bed, just as I always have, long after sunrise.

A tour of the garden must follow our leisurely breakfast. There is always much to discover, and the garden would be upset if we missed anything during a morning perambulation. Yesterday I had noticed the bright green foliage of a potato vine in the large classical urn on the porch had been riddled with little holes. I assumed that was the work of slugs. When I showed the plant to my husband this morning, he turned one of the leaves over, and there was the culprit. A tiny, round beetle with a shining gold carapace. We'd never seen one of its kind before.

And there was another, and another. Well, they're beautiful, and they can proceed with their life-mission to feast on whatever it is that nature gave them appetite for. That it happens to be potato vines is unfortunate. However, the begonias directly beside the vine have been untouched. When I did a little research I discovered that they're gold tortoise beetles, common in North America, though uncommon to our experience.

My husband watered the garden beds and borders and the pots and urns and I returned to the house to clean up the kitchen and perform other little household chores preparatory to clearing away our agenda for a ravine walk. While he was out our neighbours appeared, and with them their visiting daughter, whom we've known since she was seven, giving my husband an opportunity to express our appreciation for her professional work as a pediatric nurse, during this time of COVID-19.

When we delved into the ravine soon afterward, it took no time at all before coming across families and couples and groups of young children on bicycles going through the ravine trails. Making it difficult at times to commit to recommended distances on narrow, uphill ascents. And when we came across an old friend, we had to continually re-position ourselves where trails forked and people arrived from opposite directions.

Our friend recounted to us his most recent experiences with COVID-related inconveniences. He had months ago reluctantly decided that he and his wife who is non-ambulatory now, needing constant care and assistance, to do away with the four-times weekly aid of a personal care worker, to give our friend a bit of relaxed time to do shopping, to get out for some recreational hiking time, to attend appointments. Whenever he now exits the house he must make certain that his wife is in a good position to manage on her own until his return, an hour or so hence.

That the provincial government ordered pharmacies to dole out only a month of prescribed medication to everyone, including those with the most medication use as a group, the elderly, has been more than a nuisance. Anyone using multiple types of medications whose overlapping renewals complicate things by requiring more frequent fillings, is really inconvenienced. The elderly are cautioned not to risk too-frequent exposure, yet the need to have prescriptions renewed when they all run out at different times, and no more than a month's worth can be acquired, equates with more frequent and often frustrating visits to the pharmacy to pick them up.

Our friend manages a tight schedule, himself suffering numerous health problems, and he's the sole caregiver for  his wife with her own health condition. They live independently, in the house they had built many years ago in the community, outfitted with pulleys to enable him to move his wife from bath to shower, from bed to wheelchair. Their option would be long-term care institutionalization and neither feel prepared for that expedient diminishing their quality of life. And in this current climate of COVID-related health threats where a majority of deaths in the country have come at the expense of the elderly, the infirm, the health-compromised in such long-term care homes, none too appealing.

This was a most perfect day weatherwise for a tour of a forested area running through a suburban area of a city of a million residents. Cool, breezy, sunny, completely bracing, the air cleansed by the forest, the ground firm beneath our boots, two little dogs happy to be out rushing about, re-acquainting themselves with familiar smells and landscapes.

And then, returning home to a welcoming garden to amble about and appreciate the smiling faces of blooms. The first Icelandic poppy of the season, the gradual transformation from bud to flower of the climbing roses, the varied colour-streaked petunias, all clamouring for our admiration, which we render freely and with much gratification.