When all the squirrels and birds had departed for the day, and darkness fell along came Fati Rascoon, the only one of his kind to show up yet this spring. He makes himself comfortable, remains ensconced in a tranquil posture, barely bothering to occasionally glance about to detect the presence of any threats while he avails himself of the offerings on the porch. He sees us, but pays no mind. Irving usually refreshes the offerings once the squirrels have abandoned their porch roost. The little fellow focused his attention equally on the crackers and the peanuts, totally disinterested in the carrots set outside for the rabbits.

We had bought a package of tortillas last grocery shopping at Jody's suggestion, so last evening he and I set about putting together our version of burritos. Because he avoids gluten products, he made his own tortillas out of ground-up flax seeds. Flax seeds have many uses in a kitchen and on a dining table, and they grind nicely in an old coffee grinder. His burritos had a crunchy, nutty texture and flavour.

Each tortilla was spread first with tomato paste. Then a fat row of black beans was arranged down each tortilla. Grated old marble cheddar followed, sprinkled with sliced green onions, yellow bell pepper and cocktail tomatoes. More cheese, and the tortillas were folded, toothpicked and went into the oven. They made a satisfying meal, with spinach on the side.

This third day of spring 2022 could be a little warmer, with a high temperature of 2.3C and an icy wind under mostly cloudy skies. But we take what we get now and always in the weather, since longing for better cuts no ice with nature. We set off for a late morning walk today for the simple reason that it fit into today's schedule. Which is a late afternoon departure for Jody, returning to Vancouver and his life there.

That is the part of the 'visit' with our youngest child that I will never adjust to. But he's lived there for about thirty years and it has become his home. So it has been a quiet day, the imminence of his departure hanging over us. Us, not him necessarily. He's a cheerful pragmatist. The kind of person who believes in good over all else, with a strict sense of what a decent code of moral conduct represents. An optimist of the first order and we do admire him aside from our love for him.

So, off we went to the ravine, dressed for the cold. On our way, Jody pointed out a robin in our weeping jade crabapple tree. Which last summer bore an overwhelmingly bounteous crop of tiny apples. Which the robin was pecking at. Not much live feed for them at this time of year. But now they've moved up from the ravine and the creek and gone elsewhere.

We had dropped below freezing last night, so the trails that were hovering between ice and slush were most definitely ice today. Still we could get fairly good footholds in the nature of the loose-packed ice on the trails, and Jody is such an inveterate outdoorsman with a sure sense of balance and care where  his boots go, we managed to negotiate the trails with no problem. He refuses to wear cleats and we, of course, never go without them in the winter.

 

There was no one else around, absolutely no one. So Jackie and Jillie were able to temporarily shed their sense of responsibility as stewards of the vast ravine and its forest, and just relax; no other dogs to bark at. Refreshing for us, perhaps a tad boring for them. The creek at the bottom of the ravine is much reduced in volume; no longer blasting its way through the forest. Now assuming a more placid decorum, although still noisy. Once milder weather returns and the snowmelt continues, it will revert again to a wild, dark river of meltwater and Leda clay.