This was my first introduction to flowers identified as Osteospermum; I'd never heard of them nor seen them before. They looked like daisies but somehow more distinguished, and then I learned they're African daisies. Perhaps new to the North American market. But when I saw them yesterday when we were getting together our spring planting materials I thought they were giving good competition to the zinnias we were also placing in our cart.

And I thought that today I could devote a few hours to planting some of them, and that was one of my last thoughts before falling to sleep last night. Unfortunately the pattern persists, with a brief glimpse of early morning sun speedily turning to overcast, cool and windy. Which could be dealt with, but not when it was also steadily raining. So my tentative aspiration to begin planting the flower beds was put on suspension, all the more reason to that, the forecast is for frost tonight.

It was dark, dark in the house. But comfortably so. We live in an era where with a flick of a switch we have full artificial daylight. Going far back enough in prehistory Homo sapiens was dependent on caring for fire, to provide warmth and light, and people's preoccupation was successful foraging for food while they sheltered from the elements and the stalking of wild beasts in caves.

Stuck at home because of rain we have so many options available to us. We can do some reading, cooking, baking, take photographs, find entertainment on our computers, and talk to one another about aborted plans that still could bear fruit should circumstances change. In a micro-scale for us, it was the potential for the rain to stop enabling us to haul ourselves out in the company of our little dogs for a long ramble through forest trails for exercise and leisure pleasure.

For the larger community on a macro-scale, it's the hope that the global pandemic that is playing havoc everywhere will come to a screeching halt, wearing itself out as it struggles to bypass the vaccine shields being rolled out all over the world at a pace that doesn't quite satisfy us, but represents a miracle of human scientific ingenuity.

As I puttered about upstairs, Jackie and Jillie followed me, asking what's happening and why aren't we going out for a walk today? Even though they will not willingly, voluntarily, take themselves out in the rain to the backyard however briefly to relieve themselves. We occupied ourselves with little things annoyingly awaiting our attention to be done at times such as these.

Rain never keeps our wildlife guests from the porch, and there was the usual company of squirrels about, a surprising number of birds, and at least one raccoon unwilling to pass up the opportunity to scarf up the treats. Irving thinks they'll starve without these handouts, and we have discussions between ourselves over what they can all have access to ordinarily to sustain themselves. Of course if there was no natural food sources about there'd be no wildlife.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. Suddenly out came the sun. False alarm? A momentary breakthrough? The sky was occupied with lighter-looking clouds and it did look as though that was enough for the rain, today. So off we went to the ravine, thinking we'd do a short trek at the first hint of returning rain. But there was no need to, the rain spigot was definitely turned to the 'off' position, and we continued on to a complete circuit. A muddy one, needless to say.

During which we came accounter a good many people who must have shared our thoughts and inclinations, both strangers to the woods and many whom we've had long acquaintance with. Even the wildlife seemed to celebrate the cessation of rain. Red squirrels were chasing one another about, and birds were flying about everywhere. 

Ferns are really coming up in droves on the forest floor now, likely as a result of all the rain. One area that has been hosting a cache of ostrich ferns has them raised out of the soil among the proliferation of trout lilies, on the edge of one of the trails. We saw the first of the wild strawberries in flower, and doubtless there will be more, much more to come.