Today wasn't the glorious winter/spring day that yesterday presented us with, but it comes in a close second. Another day above freezing. The wind is still gusting strongly but reduced from yesterday's 60kmh. Jackie and Jillie pay attention to the wind when it's blustery and loud. Perhaps all dogs do. Button and Riley used to stand at the top of the deck stairs, alert to the wind when it was really in evidence. There were times when they were clearly alarmed at its ferocity, and preferred to go straight back into the house. Jackie and Jillie are a little like that, though none of the four ever were terribly alarmed over the sturm und drung of heavy thunderstorms.

I decided this morning to bake a yeast-raised coffee cake for tonight's dessert. I haven't baked one in ages. I always have the vision of my mother-in-law's yeast coffee cakes in mind because it was a favourite with my husband. When I had the opportunity I was never interested and didn't ask her about the recipe. One of my neighbours once years ago gave me a starter that came with a note to pass it on to others. The note instructed how to proceed with the starter, what to add to it, promising it would produce the most divine of coffee cakes. 

I've no idea where that recipe is now. I should have kept it because the resulting cake was indeed the best I'd ever made. Today, I just ticked off in my mind what should go into the cake batter and ran with it, figuring it couldn't go too wrong, I've done enough yeast baking to know how to proceed. I started by warming a cup of milk along with 1/4 cup of butter, and the same of honey. I had dissolved the yeast in a bit of warm water and granulated sugar, so added that. I added a half-cup of whole-wheat flour, a dash of salt, a tsp.of cinnamon and a tsp.of vanilla and beat it all together. Next two eggs. Finally two cups of hard-wheat white flour, beating it all to a fairly smooth and loose batter. To which I added a cup of Thomson raisins, and let it rise in a covered bowl.

For the top I put together a half-cup flour, 1/4 cup brown sugar, tsp. cinnamon and 1/4 cup butter along with a half-cup of broken walnuts. And there, it was done. Baked for 40 minutes in a 350-F oven. And it was time to get ourselves out to the ravine. That's the time when Jackie and Jillie tell us they're getting a little restless. They know a walk is in the offing, and why aren't we off, already?

When we set out the temperature had risen to 6.2C, so we put woolly sweaters on the puppies, their boots and set off. Our driveway is now completely free of ice and snow, the street is in the same condition, almost. We no longer have to clamber over a  hill of snow to get to the track to the ravine entrance. Our boots now sink deep into the snow; the milder temperature of the two days of springlike weather has melted a good proportion of the snow and what's left is slop in some places, over the firmer grounding of accumulated snow.

Conditions are such that one takes care to remain on the trails where the snow has been well tamped down over the winter months of successive snowfalls. Edging beyond the trail means flirting with suddenly plunging into softened snow to a depth halfway up to one's knees. And it takes a bit of tugging to get out of the mess.

Again, the creek is in full flood, deep and wide, churning up particulate matter and carrying along clumps of loosened clay and parts of branches the wind has brought down off the trees. Pine cones which have been steadily falling again this past week, are also swirled through the darkened meltwater blasting downstream.

We're still bemused that on these lovely days of reduced cold and beautiful landscapes, we seem to be back where we were a year ago. The hordes of people that had taken during lockdown to cruising through newly-discovered trails in the ravine have suddenly vanished. Our treks through the trails are once again serene and peaceful.

When we entered the ravine this afternoon to begin our circuit there was ample blue sky overhead to allow the sun to break through a gathering cloud cover. By the time we were preparing to wind up our tramp for the day we had run into snowsqualls. We suddenly became aware of our jackets glittering with brilliant drops of moisture. Looking up into the distance we realized the sky had been invaded by streaked grey clouds.

When we returned home we realized that the temperature had fallen again, to 4.0 C, and the moisture that fell couldn't decide whether it would be wet snow or rain or freezing rain or snow pellets. Soon afterward the sun came out again.