All the peanuts are finally gone. That would be five 50-lb. bags of shelled peanuts put out on the porch daily in little piles  over the winter-to-spring months, for our local wildlife. Added to the peanuts were biscuits. And the wildlife came in their numbers. Many of which we became quite familiar with. Their presence on the porch both irritated and intrigued Jackie and Jillie. In the sense that they resented other animals making free on their property, finding it inexcusably rude. At the same time, watching them provided Jackie in particular with quite a bit of entertainment. He would often stand motionless before the door, watching the action, then break out in a frenzy of barks.

At first the wildlife tended to scatter in the blink of a jaundiced eye at his and Jillie's hysterical barks. But they gradually realized there was bluster but no actual threat inherent in the noise, and eventually just began ignoring it. Which suited both J&J and the wildlife just fine. J&J weren't deprived of their entertainment after all, and the wildlife had their own entertainment scooping up peanuts to stuff fat little faces.

This morning after breakfast armed with a bucket of hot soapy and vinegared water I sloshed it all over the porch bricks and brushed it with a broom. After first sweeping up yesterday's detritus, comprised mostly of those transparent peanut coverings. Squirrels eat peanuts, but prefer to leave behind the fragile semi-transparent peanut coverings and they accumulate in every little nook and cranny. I swept them all up as compost, depositing them with a dustpan into the garden where it will break down in the soil and enrich it.

In mid-afternoon we set off for the ravine once the house had been cleaned, the floors washed. First, though, we opened all the windows to let in fresh air on a day that truly surpassed our expectations. A day that turned out to give us a high temperature of 22C, with a pleasant light breeze and full sun exposure. No jackets needed today, just comfortable tramping along, breathing cool fresh air deeply. 

The various sources of wild fruit in the forest are preparing for their fruiting harvest. The wild apple trees are just beginning to take on a light green haze of faintly emerging leaves. The hawthorns haven't yet started; they're the first to drop their foliage in the fall, and the last to acquire new foliage in the spring. But the raspberry canes and the thimbleberry shrubs are on a tear of fresh green foliage and their flowers won't be far behind.

Among the woodland violets, just now beginning to flower, there are wild strawberries, already bearing their dainty white flowers, a counterpart to the brighter mauve flowers of the violets. Eventually the white, light purple and more lush, larger violets will begin to bloom pink-purple.

Fiddleheads are emerging on the forest hillsides. their tender new little stalks curling over, reminding us that cultivated and wild curling stalks of ferns will soon be highlighted at supermarkets. There, they come with a cost to the palate, here they're available for the picking. Too bitter-green for Irving's taste.

Of course there's also the trout lilies and the trilliums in bloom, awaiting recognition. They're beginning to be a little less shy, opening to the admiring gaze of the forest. For them, we'll restrain ourselves, admire at a distance, or creep into the underbrush of the forest floor to snap photos, each one a colourful prize. In the interests of collecting those photos, no different than the furry creatures that visit our porch to satisfy their hunger for edible treats.