Windy again, windy enough to knock chairs over, standing on the deck. In the woods the sound of the wind coursing through the forest canopy sounds like a freight train gone amok. Tree tops are being shoved by the aggressive bursts of wind, swaying back and forth. With enough energy to dislodge any broken or dead branches to fall below, let alone all manner of other woody detritus to litter the forest floor.

It's cool, with 11C the high for the day, but feeling much cooler, given the incessant wind gusts. It's great to be out nonetheless, since the opportunity is there for rain, the sky filled with scudding clouds interspersed with larger, darker clouds. The sun is doing its best to make an appearance but it's up against a superior force today.

The blooms on our magnolia are taking a direct hit, spiralling down to the ground in great numbers, their generous-sized petals trying to hold on, but intentions are no match for the insistent wind. It's sad to see those gorgeous big pink blooms disintegrate but this is what happens year over year, and we're accustomed to it, through regretful. The ornamental crab trees standing adjacent the magnolia with tiny blooms the very same shade of pink are filling the gap. They're not disturbed by the wind because the blossoms are freshly opened and resistant as youth can be to this forces of nature.

In the backyard, the much smaller magnolia has just started its bloom, so it isn't prepared to surrender the petals to the wind and its blooms will be with us for a longer period, which makes their succession extremely pleasing. I had wanted to begin planting some annuals today, at last. The same plans I've had since last Saturday and always held off because of night-time frost. Today, though, I decided I'd at least plant a dozen zinnias at the front of the house, and did just that, feeling pretty good about it.

I usually wait until the tulips are finished before putting in any annuals, but last year's gardens were so dismal it's made me all the more anxious to produce colourful and thickly planted gardens this year. It took no time at all, and I was hardly aware of the wind, though when I went back into the house I looked as though it had howled through my hair without stop.

Earlier, when we'd been out for our ravine hike with Jackie and Jillie, the woodland spring flowers must have motivated me to begin work on the garden, well before Ontario's usual 'frost-safe' date of May 24. Seeing the bright, confident red trilliums speckling the forest floor, and the trout lilies blooming in large numbers feeds my urge to get into the garden and do some work there, taking a gamble that we won't have frost again tonight.

There were some isolated sprinkles while we were out hiking the trails, but they didn't amount to much. For which I was grateful. We had taken along little rainjackets for Jackie and Jillie in case of serious rain, but I was wearing not a rainjacket myself, but a warm windbreaker. We took our time as usual taking a leisurely hike through the circuit we most favour, coming across a few other hikers and dogs but not many

A quiet, peaceful hour-and-a-half for all of us, after the early morning's food shopping expedition. Where we were glad to see full shelves of all the whole foods we're primarily interested in. Making us grateful to the people on the other end of the exercise who stock shelves and man the cash registers. And those we never see who grow the fresh produce we rely upon for good health and those who are involved in shipping and trucking these vital foodstuffs.