April is now prepared to hand spring over to May. And with that handover, it looks as though May will be inheriting some of the rain that has distinguished April. Today, another all-day rain, just like yesterday. The difference is that yesterday heavy rain began early and continued throughout the day so we weren't able to get out with Jackie and Jillie for their daily ramble through the forest. The addition of overnight rain last night left a sodden mess in the morning. But the rain had come to a temporary halt.

 

 

Soon after our breakfast we decided we'd have to take an earlier-than-usual hike with the puppies to get them and us out of the house for a walk. The rain had re-commenced but it was light and we wore rainjackets. Once they're out in the woods Jackie and Jillie don't complain about how drenched everything is. Besides which, they've had boots put on their tiny feet, along with a rainjacket. Although there's no leafy canopy yet to shield us from light rain, it was just fine.

 

 

The canopy is beginning to show some early signs of foliage. Mostly it's the poplars, almost everything else is right behind them, maples will soon begin to leaf out but the oak will take the longest. Meanwhile the pines and spruce do their best to shelter the forest trails. Despite the rain there were birds aplenty; robins and nuthatches were pretty perky.

 

We heard a cacophony of crows at one point and knew that some poor owl was being relentlessly harassed. Eventually we did see the crows in the distance, about a dozen of them flying about a tree whose occupant couldn't be seen from where we were forging ahead on one of the forest's major trails. I thought I might have seen the owl depart from its perch when the crows left the immediate area when a large bird flew off, then I realized it was a Pileated woodpecker.

 

It landed on a tree a little closer to where we were, and I tried to photograph it but by the time I had my wits together and used the photo enlarger, it was gone, flown off again and nowhere in sight. I keep trying to snap photos of this magnificent large bird but haven't yet succeeded. When it's close enough to try, by some strange alchemy it takes notice and quickly moves to the other side of any tree whose trunk it's perched on, where it can't be seen. Not because it fears an enemy since it has no enemies; its size and weaponized beak shelters it in that sense.

 

Not only was it cold and wet, but there was, once again, a wicked wind, swaying the canopy with a sound not unlike a train. There are times when high winds bother Jackie and Jillie, but not on this occasion; too many intriguing smells to occupy them. The rain, other than the light patter we were walking through, politely held off until we returned home. Mission accomplished; a try at getting out later in the day would have been thwarted by the return of heavy rain.

It seemed that no one else wanted to test the waters -- as it were -- by heading out for a vigorous stump through the rainsoaked forest, for we saw no other dogs, no one else out and but for the presence of birds and squirrels had the forest to ourselves.

I had earmarked today to get out into the garden and do a little work. So much for that. As that old bit of wisdom has it; 'The best laid plans of mice and gardeners do often go astray'.  The one element aside from time that you need to work in the garden is agreeable weather, but it was not to be. We suspected as much; yesterday's glorious day was a break in the cool and wet weather we've been experiencing. And the forecast was for another ongoing week of heavy overcast, rainy and cool days ahead.

At least we were able to get Jackie and Jillie out early in the morning before the rain started; 'out' as in the backyard, no further. Later, in the midst of morning rain nothing could convince them it was time to get out and relieve themselves. This time, even Jackie balked at the prospect of getting soaked, the rain was so heavy. And to get Jillie out I actually had to grab her, scoop her up and deposit her outside with an injunction to pee. 

 

Once they were in, I stayed out anyway, wearing a rainjacket. I pulled up a few weeds, struggling to get their entire root systems up, and saw that the rock garden periwinkles despite the rain, were in bloom; tiny, bright-blue cheery little flower heads. The periwinkle, a robust ground cover perfect for rock gardens, feels it's also perfectly entitled to spread elsewhere in garden plots dedicated to other plants, and over the years has done just that, creeping stealthily along from the rock garden to an adjoining garden border, and then another...

 

The first of the snake-head fritillaries is also up, its dangling little flower head resembling that of a snake, taking advantage of the still-bare-of-perennial appearances to make its lone statement. It too is a flower whose bulb was originally planted in the rock garden, and somehow one of its offspring has gravitated to another garden bed far removed from the original.

When I got back into the house finally, I was drenched. Neither Jackie nor Jillie offered to towel me down for comfort, as we do with them after they've been exposed to such drenching conditions. Little ingrates.

 

Our plans for the day obviously altered, there were other things to be done to occupy me. First among which was the need to bake a batch of the sugar-vanilla-wafers that Irving enjoys eating. And next in line was a jarful of pickled eggs. I haven't made them in ages, and Irving is fond of them. So that was done, and then I thought it was high time I began the spring cleaning finally; put off for long enough.

 

I always start in the kitchen, and the first part of the kitchen cupboards is the pantry, a set of cupboards that cover the entire wall of one end of the kitchen. One by one the shelves were emptied, sponged down, wiped and then re-stocked. It took awhile and by the time I was finished I had done other things in the interim, like hauling the puppies out to the backyard again, and cutting up their afternoon salads for them.

 

By the time I was finished with everything it was time to start preparing a dinner soup for this cold, wet day because we surely needed the comfort of a hot, nourishing meal. Cutting up vegetables for the soup gave Jackie and Jillie the impression they were owed more vegetables and they advised me in no uncertain terms that their patience had its limits...

 

One of those Ugh, Dammit! issues that people love to hate. And Irving has put it off as long as possible. Finally, he pushed himself to haul out all the paperwork needed to put an end to putting it off and attacked our tax returns. Mine is a breeze, his isn't. He splits income with me so that makes the endeavour a little more complicated. He does refer sometimes to previous returns he's kept a copy of, but they're not static, there's always changes in requirements. So procrastination came to an end a few days ago. And now it's done, and he's in a good mood, and prepared to zip over to the nearest post office.

 

 

He's not interested in filing online. Not interested in having anyone else do the returns for us. Determined as in all things, to do it himself. It's what turned him into a plumber, electrician, interior designer, artist, builder, all while working as a government bureaucrat. There was ever (and forever) nothing he wouldn't tackle on his own. So now they're done for another year and that's that. 

 

 

It's been quite the day, so warm we could fling the windows open, and Jackie and Jillie were happy to splay out on the deck in the sun. As different from yesterday's cold, damp, overcast day as night is to day. Birds were delighted, the cardinals and robins told us so, singing from early morning to afternoon.

 

 

Since it's Friday and I usually bake a dessert to top off Friday-night dinner I decided on cupcakes today. I had recalled yesterday that when the children were young, the many desserts I had prepared to accompany meals at closing. Among them marble cake. So I thought, why not marble cupcakes? And that's what I did. I divided the batter when it was ready, and added cocoa powder to one half, then spooned vanilla and chocolate batter alternately into the cupcake papers. With a cake, and its greater volume, the idea is to 'marbelize' the batter by passing a knife back and forth between the vanilla and the chocolate. I bypassed that step.

 

 

Unlike yesterday, Jackie and Jillie needed no little jerseys in the 17-degree Celsius atmosphere, a difference of ten degrees, and the presence of the sun for the most part of the day. Not, however, when we went out, though the ambient warmth was quite wonderful. We weren't the only ones making the most of such a lovely spring day, and there were quite a few dogs renewing their cookie acquaintanceship with Irving.

 

 

We saw that bedding grasses are beginning to present themselves on the forest floor, and so are woodland violets and wild strawberries. Trout lilies have erupted in crowded colonies here and there, literally thousands of individual plants. Too early yet for any flowers to appear, and then my eyes hit on one tiny bright yellow trout lily flower; the first yet to greet us.

 

 

Further along we walked the trail beside trillium territory and while Irving thought we might see some flowering, I was skeptical -- until we spotted quite a few opening their scarlet blooms. Because of the Leda clay in the forest soil in this geography, our trilliums are bright red, with the occasional pink bloom or striped-pink flower. I do go in search of white trilliums, but that will be a little later in the season; they tend to bloom later than the scarlet ones.

 

 

 

I'm sure it will take a long, long time for us to resign ourselves to the absence of that beautiful old pine we've seen every day for the last 32 years, standing as a silent sentry and guidepost at the bottom of the long hill we descend to enter the forested ravine across from our street in Orleans. The landscape looks bereft, and so it should, with that grand old feature now gone. We have really conflicted feelings over its absence; first the fact that it had been leaning and of late seemed so threatening as that lean became more and more pronounced.

 

 

So there's relief that the suspense over when it might fall and whether someone might be on the trail at the time of its collapse and a catastrophe greater than the absence of a noble old tree might occur. Yet even while there's a sense of palpable relief not to be haunted by the prospect of an imagined but very real potential for danger every time we and others descended or ascended that hill in the knowledge that if and when that tree collapsed its height would challenge almost the entire length of the hillside trail. 

 

Now that it's gone, its absence makes a profound statement, of the impermanence of any landscape. The finite nature of existence. The realization that it takes but an instant for things to occur and suddenly what we take for granted has been altered. When we walk downhill toward the interconnecting trails through the trail system enabling us to visit the various portions of the forest we've become so familiar with over the years, we can't help but assume it will always be there, and we will always be there to appreciate it.

 

The tree's collapse, the forest's adjustment to the various fairly violent weather systems that have deprived it of many of its trees show just who is in charge here; time and the elements that nature unleashes and we but awed spectators. Because of the time of year, when the landscape looks tired, dreary, devoid of colour with spring just settling in, we see a forest not in its best shape. But walk on a little further and there are other old trees, maples, oaks, beech, hemlock, poplars, pines, firs, spruce, that remain in good health populating the forest.

 

Not to mention the burgeoning emergence of spring flowers that will each in their turn delight us with their presence, ephemeral and beautiful. Soon we'll be seeing mayflies, beetles, dragonflies, butterflies as the weather warms. Today, despite the darkly overcast skies, robins sang triumphantly in appreciation of the rain that has brought earthworms to the surface to serve as delicacies for these wonderful birds. And today I saw bees in the garden for the first time this spring.

 

Thankful it was no longer raining, despite the bruised clouds above and the chill in the air, we decided to take a long circuit in appreciation of life and its opportunities to make the most of every minute of it. Jackie and Jillie were as delighted as always to saunter about here and there, travelling double the distance we do, walking as it were a straight line, whereas they course back and forth, over to the right, then the left, romping ahead and doing turns off-trail.

 

We would be leaving them at home alone again later in the afternoon, and we wanted to make certain they had the opportunity to be out for as long as possible, and ourselves as well. Today would be my final visit to the Eye Clinic for a doctor to check out the progress of the eye a cataract was removed from and a new lens installed.

The drive downtown was a lesson in impatient patience. For some odd reason, at half-past two in the afternoon, lanes in either direction were clogged with slow-moving traffic. We crawled rather than drove to the downtown area where the clinic is located. A drive that should take between 20 minutes and a half-hour set us back a full hour.

Once at the clinic it wasn't long to wait before I was seen and my eye examined. A few tests of the eye reading from a few charts, the usual exposure to high-tech equipment scrutinizing the inner area of the eye, a brief consultation and I was given a green light of coming along nicely, the eye healing as it should, and informed that over the next month I would see even greater improvement than I have to date which is considerable.

 

Jackie and Jillie are almost nine years old. You'd think they'd be accustomed to being ministered to by the wonderful young women who love and coddle them when we take them to the groomers. They don't complain actually, know exactly what's happening when we drive into the little complex containing the veterinary clinic and the spa. They're familiar with the groomers, and it's usually the same young women who look after each of them. 

 

 

Jillie was fine when she was being sheared. But when it came to bath time she absolutely balked. She complained bitterly all the while she was being bathed and was a stubbornly difficult little pup. This happened once before with her, over a year ago. Jackie, on the other hand, is fairly blase, even though he doesn't really like being handled. Jillie was slightly baleful afterward, and last night Jackie slept hard up against my back all night; unusual for him, they're neither of them cuddlers except when Irving is relaxing reading on the sofa.

 

 

They're also affected by weather. When it's dark and rainy and cool they tend to be a little moody. The very conditions when I literally have to haul Jillie out-of-doors to do her necessaries. Jackie doesn't mind the rain. But once they've been out and come back into the house after Irving has towelled them down, they both follow me, leap up at me and won't desist until I give them the petting they're demanding.

 

 

The rain did stop eventually in late afternoon, but the temperature rose no more than to 8C, so it was cool and we thought it might rain again, so J&J wore raincoats and so did we. First off, entering the trail to the ravine Irving noticed that the posts closing the main trail access had been shoved aside, and when we looked down at the trail, we could see the impression of a heavy-tread vehicle in the sodden soil. I had just then been thinking it would be a while before the forest management crew would tend to the fallen pine across the trail, given the weather.

 

 

So now we have access once again to the main trail, but it is beyond strange not to see the towering old pine we've seen for over thirty years at the foot of the trail leading into the ravine. It toppled several weeks ago and since then we've been diverted to a secondary trail to access the circuits we familiarly make every day. The massive trunk was cut into pieces and somehow rolled off the trail. The pine that had stood so proudly for so many years now litters the forest floor.

 

 

It wasn't a sick tree. It was solely it's increasingly precarious perch on the bank of the creek that caused it over time to begin leaning and as the years went by the lean became more and more pronounced. Extreme weather this spring, with inordinately high winds and a lot of freezing rain further weakened its roots' hold on the forest floor. It's a sad sight, the empty space where it once towered, and the remnants of a proud old tree. It wasn't hollow, the wood is in prime condition.

 

 

We also found that the trail leading off to the first bridge across the creek is now suddenly free of ice. It usually takes that stretch of trail far longer than the rest of the forest trails to eventually clear itself of the winter's accumulation of ice. During the course of our circuit we were visited on a few occasions by our puppies' canine friends. Confident that by confronting Irving they can expect cookie rewards. 

 

We're beginning to see that tell-tale haze of green now over the steeple-tops of tall old poplars, and the trails have been peppered with the red florets of maples. Tiny tender foliage is appearing on the forest shrubs as well, the hazelnuts and the dogwoods. We saw the very first of the lilies-of-the-valley beginning to encircle tree trunks. 

 

So far it's been a cool and wet spring, but that's to be expected, here. What was unexpected was the dallying four-day heat and sun event that settled around us several weeks ago that led us to believe that spring had catapulted us into summer. An absurd illusion that the following weeks have since dispelled.

 

We're stuck in that in-between nowhere mode of one step forward, two steps backward. That's what it felt like yesterday, with a full day of heavy rain following hard on a blissful day of warm temperature and full sun. Yesterday was cold and miserable. The rain too heavy to allow for a hike through the forest trails. So we stayed in, but weren't exactly bored, there was just so much to do. And that included a cold-weather dinner of beef roast, Yorkshire pudding, spinach and strawberries for dessert. Jackie and Jillie particularly appreciated the roast. They don't mind it for breakfast, either.

 

 

A little bit of ventilation when  you're aggrieved about the weather doesn't hurt. Could be Nature is sensitive to criticism because she offered us a sunny day, albeit still cold, today. As luck would have it, the sun went in when dark clouds swept through the sky when we decided earlier than usual to get out for a walk through the forest trails. An early walk because Jackie and Jillie had a spa appointment for bath and haircut today.

 

 

We expected the trails to be muddy, and so it wasn't a surprise that they were. What did surprise us was the proliferation of Coltsfoot, the earliest forest spring flower. Usually we see a few little patches here and there in most springs. This year their presentation is far different; they've colonized a good part of the forest floor, mostly around the creek and its near environs. Their bright yellow, perky little heads were still out even though the sun was absent and we just marvel at their perseverance as sun-loving flowers, typical of yellow flowerheads that close in the absence of direct sun.

 

 

Robins were busy scuttling along the trails and into the detritus on the forest floor where ferns will soon be emerging. Chickadees and nuthatches flitter here and there and the cardinals' bright spring melody signalled how excited birds are at spring's arrival. Hawks and bluejays will soon be making their appearance as will Great Blue Herons, temporarily.

 

We delivered Jackie and Jillie to the spa adjacent to the Veterinarian Clinic whose services we've used for the past thirty years.  We'd given the pups Heartworm and flea/tick medication a week ago left over from last year, but we need a new prescription for the rest of the summer. And so we went next door to the clinic to make appointments for their yearly check-ups and once that was all arranged, went off further to the supermarket for our weekly shopping.

 

It was a busy store we entered, fairly packed with customers. And there was the young man who works in the produce section with his brilliant smile who always greets us, finally returned from his holiday 'back home' in the West Indies. He's a handsome, muscular young man who stands several feet in height above us. Nostalgia and family sentiment sent him back for a visit and he was away for well over a month.

 

Sticker prices continue to shock us. It's not just that prices have risen, but even those that have risen continue to rise. Something that poses no difficulty for us, but certainly does for a great many other people. It's routine for us now, the weekly assembling non-perishable food; a carton of four Kraft dinners, four tins of tuna, four tins of flaked him or chicken, four tins of soup to place in the container sitting in the store's vestibule for pick up by the area Food Bank.

 

Shopping finished, we drove back to pick up our puppies. As usual, they awaited us in a little room with windows extending to the floor and as we walked toward the spa entrance they began leaping at the window and we could hear their commanding barks of 'come get us!' And so, we did. The report from the groomers was that Jillie was fine with getting her hair cut, but when it came to bath time she rebelled; typical of Jillie, she just hates getting wet.

 

No doubt about it, nature is a wicked tease. We were so rapturous yesterday over the weather. The temperature soared to 22-degrees Celsius, the wind was robust but gracefully kind, and the sun smiled all day coasting through a Periwinkle-blue sky. It was such a lovely day we were happy to stay out roaming through the forest trails for as long as we could. 

 

Everyone was happy, from the companion dogs that presented themselves constantly for cookie treats from Irving, to the perennial wildflowers that decided to surprise us with an early presence. The Trilliums on the verge of opening their flower buds yesterday wouldn't be doing that today. The Coltsfoot had closed their bright yellow heads in the absence of sun. 

 

In the backyard, though, it seemed much more pleasant and I went about assessing the pace of renewal. Early-blooming scilla are having a really good time; they've naturalized to the extent that they've replicated and now form little packs of bright blue blooms, tiny and cheerful. Early-blooming Lungwort has also proliferated and is beginning to bloom.

Peonies are sending their bright red shoots out of the garden soil. And roses are coming to life. I set up cages for both to give them the support they will need when they begin their bloom stages. By mid-June the first blush of roses should be in full thrust, and the peonies will have grown thick with foliage, their large, colourful and fragrant flower heads leading into summer. 

 

The pair of cardinals that we see now and again through the winter months were out in one of our tall spruce trees, and chickadees and nuthatches were busy landing on the rose canes and the ornamental trees in the front garden. We saw Benjamin rabbit last night nibbling on carrots; first time we've managed to spot him in several weeks, though the carrots are always gone when we look.

It had rained heavily all night, so when we went out to the ravine it wasn't unexpected that the trails were muddy once again; yet another change from yesterday when they were all firm and dry. There too, there is more bird life. Juvenile robins are beginning to show themselves, some of them now over-wintering. At this time of year they have a tendency to 'run' along the trails.

 

And down in the forest creek we saw the male Mallard duck again. His mate was nowhere in sight; we haven't seen her in a week or so, though the male tends to be around. We assume that she's nesting somewhere further along the creek where it forms into a pool in the forest interior, likely sitting on eggs.

The atmosphere in the ravine bore no resemblance to what it was like yesterday. Cool enough to wear gloves, so my hands were stuffed into my jacket pockets.

We could actually sense the oncoming rain, good enough reason to head back home and confine our outing today to a much shorter circuit than we took yesterday.

 

Today turned out one of those perfect early spring days. Not quite like the succession of four days that surprised us several weeks ago when we were suddenly plunged into what felt incredibly like summer, but the kind of day in early spring that is so perfect (and typical for this region at this time of year) it calls out to be enjoyed in the most natural of settings. And for us and for other people living in the wider community through which this forested ravine runs, we have access to the most natural of settings.

 

 

A mostly sunny day, despite that the forecast called for afternoon showers and evening thunderstorms. The sun so bright it pierces through every nook and cranny, both out-of-doors and indoors. And with a temperature that lifted itself to a pleasant 22C. Oh, and a storm-tossed wind that blew incessantly but was in fact pleasant, given the mild temperature.

 

 

Today turned out, in fact, to be a day of discovery. Apart from the fact that for a change the allure of the forest and the intersection of the weather brought out a relatively large number of people to enjoy the atmosphere and the landscape. We happened to bump into a new neighbour out with his rambunctious year-old dog. When I asked after his wife, he told us, beaming, that they now have a week-old little girl.

 

 

There were ravine acquaintances we haven't seen in a while, all out with their dogs loping through the trails, everyone feeling comfortable and appreciative of the rapidly drying trails, after last night's rain event. We decided we would take an extra-long circuit, mostly because it was so lovely out, but also because we were curious about some areas of the forest where we know the first spring flowers will be emerging. Not exactly discounting the Coltsfoot, but they're old news by now.

 

 

On the way, Irving was gently confronted by a bevy of dogs, old friends who are very aware that he is a walking cookie dispenser, and who position themselves patiently beside him, awaiting the inevitable offer: 'Cookie?' They affirm that to be their goal and Irving is happy to oblige. And so are our own pups, awaiting their 'fair' turn. There were so many of these serendipitous little gatherings it was a miracle Irving had stocked up enough to go around.

 

And then came the discoveries. First, that the maple trees had begun dropping the bright crimson florets that precede the production of foliage. The tiny red florets are now beginning to litter the forest floor under the fine old maples amidst the forest deciduous trees. In a sense, although the florets flourish brightly in the canopy of maples they can be considered among the first of the spring flowers.

 

Then as we accessed one of the furthest trails we round on a lengthy circuit, we could see an old familiar colony of trout lilies emerging. They're not found everywhere in the forest, and in this particular area they have spread and taken over the early spring forest floor. They're taking advantage of the early spring sun able to penetrate the still-unleafed forest canopy. In another week or two they will begin to send up their delicate little golden-headed blooms.

 

And then, further on, in an area that always hosts trilliums, we were surprised to see the plants already emerged. We had seen nothing of either trilliums or trout lilies mere days earlier. The irresistible combination of milder temperatures and brilliant sun represents the perfect formula these early spring-flowering woodland plants respond to. Although the buds of the flowers are there, dangling above the tri-leafed plant, they too are not yet open, but will be shortly.