I haven't yet succeeded in persuading Irving that the local wildlife is no longer (if they ever were) in need of handouts, they're perfectly capable of foraging for themselves; it's what nature has taught them to do in fulfillment of her imperative given all her creatures; survival. Strange as it seems, he feels 'responsible', now that he has once again accustomed our little visitors to coming around for treats, to ensure that they're well fed. And they are.

From squirrels to cardinals, the occasional rabbit or skunk to crows and sparrows, chickadees and nuthatches -- and of course, our very special raccoon, assuming there's only one. Each time we do the grocery shopping, my husband tosses in crackers not meant for us, and huge cereal boxes not meant for us, which end up being scattered on the porch floor, along with any toast or pancakes or French toast left over from breakfast.

Although the little raccoon comes over at any time of day -- afternoons in broad daylight -- seeming to suit him just fine sauntering over from the ravine, last evening just as darkness smothered the landscape, there he was, patiently waiting under the wrought-iron porch loveseat. He remained there while Irving hurriedly refreshed the depleted offerings, upon which the little fellow immediately emerged and began comfortably helping himself, most of his competitors sound asleep for the night. 

Yesterday I accidentally gave myself a 'fat lip'. I discovered years ago that the dry-dusting floor mops that I favour are no longer available. Oh, there are some, but instead of wool, the fabric is oil-based and doesn't pick up dust. My online searches found a product that looked perfect, but they wouldn't ship from the U.S. to Canada, given the awkwardness of shipping something with a long wooden pole attached to a mop-head.

I kept looking and found an industrial cleaning supplier in the city who when I called said they were open to the public, not only the trade. And along we went, and there I picked up an industrial size-and-strength dry mop and several heads. And while I was there, an assortment of lambswool dusting wands which still serve me well. The mop's stick was so long I couldn't handle it, so Irving sawed a foot off it. I became accustomed to its weight and have been using it for at least five or six years. Holding the till-long mop handle at an awkward angle yesterday when I was dusting the dining room floor I managed to thrust the top against my mouth and boy, it smarted!

After using the thing for so many years, every day of the week, a bloody lip. I'm meticulous about ensuring that no scintilla of food remain anywhere on the kitchen or dining room floors because when we lived in Atlanta and Tokyo, rats and cockroaches could be guaranteed to visit at such places where discarded food might be available. The moderate-to-hot, moist weather is perfect for them. And though there's far less likelihood of such visitors here, the habit is now well entrenched.

As is, for us, taking our two puppies out daily for long saunters through our nearby ravined forest. For us the exercise, and the pleasure of a natural woodland scene unfolding before us as we amble along the forest trails, for them, much the same. And we're never disappointed in the changing scene we come across, season to season. One more day of spring; where has the season gone, for heaven's sake!

Trilliums are now in short supply; the foliage remains but the flowers, bright crimson, have mostly faded but for the occasional later-blooming trillium, still retaining intact flowers, albeit few and far between, now. The other late-spring standbys, trout lilies, are there in foliage form, their flowers long since dissipated (not long, about a week or so). 

This year we've noted there are now more Jack-in-the-Pulpits than ever before. Decades ago there was just one part of the raven where a few Jacks could be seen, now they're almost everywhere. Not in great abundance, but with a noticeable presence -- if you know what to look for, where to look for them, and recognize them for what they are. We can both still recall as children in elementary school 70 years ago, learning about Ontario wildflowers; doubt if that still prevails.

Then we saw that the dogwood shrubs too are now beginning to bloom, joining the hawthorns and the black cherry trees and the wild apple trees that had begun a week earlier. Oh, and the False Solomon's Seal too is setting its floral spray, just as has red baneberry, in greater display this year than last, when hardly any could be seen on the forest floor. A virtual cornucopia of wilddflowering everywhere we looked.

What is absolutely bedazzling though, is the speed with which the greening of the deciduous trees takes place. the forest canopy is a now a bright green blaze, and apart from the beauty of a fully-leafed forest there is the practicality (for us) of the canopy providing shelter for trail-hikers during times of light rain. Which we experienced today, a hot, humid day, sun sun, some rainclouds, but no big rain event yet.