A lovely day for the first day of Passover today. Also Easter Friday. Our Passover breakfast smiled at us. No, really, it did. A wide, goofy smile, from google-eye to google-eye. You couldn't help but respond. When we have melon for breakfast as we most often do, it's quite delicious, but there's no joy expressed. This morning we had (oops) blood oranges from Florida, and paired with a nice ripe banana, the trio that resulted posed for us, wide-eyed and grinning.

 

 

That wasn't the only surprise we had this morning. We were greeted when we went out to the backyard with Jackie and Jillie, by the sight of beautiful blue dwarf irises. These sturdy little bulbs faithfully bloom every spring. They were planted so long ago I just cannot recall when they were introduced to the garden, certainly well over a decade ago. Their cheery presence in an otherwise dismal, grey garden is always a surprise, and they're in no hurry to leave.

 

Friday mornings are always busy. Come to think of it, every morning is busy-time, there's always so much to do, and today was no different. We took our time reading the news over breakfast, though there was no newspaper delivery today; our two papers don't publish on holidays, so we made do with areas of the paper we weren't able to get through the past several days.

The temperature rose to 12C, but it was anything but warm. The wind, it's always the wind. And today the wind was inordinately ferocious, gusting and bellowing through the atmosphere. There was some sun but it was overcome periodically by dark, streaked clouds. It looked at one point as though we were being overwhelmed by storm clouds and we wouldn't have been surprised to have a thunderstorm, and that's undoubtedly what happened somewhere, but it bypassed us.

 

Irving took the cleats off our boots. We're just sick of wearing them, clattering down the street to the ravine. We've had to keep wearing them because of the areas of the ravine that are stubborn holdouts, refusing to surrender their icy surfaces to spring. In one area in particular we can't yet sidestep the ice since it dominates the entire width of the trail. So we did what we do every year; off went the cleats and we set off on the trail network working from the opposite direction.

 

 

Which interests Jackie and Jillie no end, because it seems to them like a new adventure. They're not accustomed to viewing the trails backward and they certainly do look different that way. They were so intrigued they 'forgot' to clamour for their cookie treats at the usual stops because we bypassed them. They made up for it later, as we progressed through the trails, coming across others out with their dogs who demand their due from Irving, too.

 

 

Another little painted 'Easter egg' appeared on another section of trail, so whoever has been placing them dangling from branches appears to be producing a few more, day by day. That puckish sense of humour is really appealing, and we end up wondering who it could be. Decidedly not any of the many people, fellow hikers that we've become familiar with, over the years.

 

 

Here and there, discrete little plants are forging their way through the still-thawing soil of the forest floor and the continually breaking-down leaf mass. Some ferns, looking a bit droopy still, but bright and colourfully green, are re-asserting themselves. They're the kind that can withstand the icy temperatures of winter and being buried in snow, to reveal themselves anew once the snow melts.

 

But we also saw a few wild strawberry plants poking their tiny green leaves through the leaf mass. They won't be flowering for another month and more and fruit will appear in June, so they get a headstart over all the other wild berry-producing plants and shrubs in the forest.

 

 

This was a very noisy day in the ravine. Yes we heard some crows coasting on the wind, but it was the wind itself that drove a locomotive through the forest canopy, sending the spires of deciduous trees and the branches of conifers swinging wildly back and forth, groaning and moaning in the process, occasionally clacking their trunks together in a wild dance.

 

When we finally left the ravine after an extra-long hike, made longer by having tramped the trails backwards and avoiding the troublesome areas completely, but having to double back to do so, the wind picked up even more ferociously. By the time we reached street level and headed down the road to home, we watched, incredulously as a huge gust drove toward us up the street, carrying with it an opaque, dirty grey-brown cloud of dust and detritus several feet off the road surface. We turned our backs to the oncoming 'cloud' but weren't able to avoid getting some of the airborne dirt in our eyes.  What a wind!