But for the Arctic and Antarctic regions and some tropical areas in Asia and Africa so distant and unwelcoming to human habitation, there are no natural places that remain untouched from the influence of humanity. We know that human detritus tends to wander with the wind and the seas, to be found in far reaches of the world where logically none should be found. 

But there are other visitors to forest regions, specimens of vegetation that don't really belong there, carried by the wind, by birds, by animals  unbeknownst to them. And even on the boots of hikers delving deep into isolated forested areas. Not to speak of alien vegetation from other realms of the world's natural places that invade because they're carried where they end up by botanists involved in research projects, or travel on the sides of ocean liners, or on packing crates, on transport wheels.

 

Then there's the surprise appearances in a forested area that is close to an urban setting, where occasionally, cultivated plants can be found foreign to a forest but seeds from nearby gardens tend on occasion to wander. We've got our share of them in the ravine we visit daily. But we were surprised last year when we came across tomatillo plants, native to Mexico, and wonder that they appeared here, in the forest. We've seen tomato plants growing alongside the trails, but never tomatillo plants before.

 

Several years ago we were surprised to discover the presence of a beautiful ornamental crab apple tree on the periphery of the forest close to its entrance off our street. We've been waiting for it to bloom, and today when we entered the ravine to descend to the forest, there it was, in full bright pink bloom. It's obvious that a random seed blown from someone's garden, even a tiny crab apple found its way there to establish a presence. Another ephemeral flash of natural beauty.

Our superb summerlike weather is continuing. The high temperature for the day was 25C, and with a clear blue sky the sun has been tickling the funnystalks of all growing things. There had been a light shower overnight we weren't aware of, but found traces of on the deck in the morning. Even those 'traces' are enough to have Jillie balk at going out-of-doors.

 

It has been a splendid out-of-doors kind of day, so off we went for our afternoon hike as soon as I was finished with my Friday baking. We had a quiet walk, a soul-soothing tramp through the warm and quiet woods. And while we were there, we knew of other creatures seeking opportunities on this warm day that enabled the hatching of mosquito larvae into full-blown blood-suckers.

Nothing can quite spoil the perfection of such a day. When we hauled ourselves up one of the hills to attain the height of the forest ridge we eventually came across the presence of something I'd been expecting. An old familiar friend, in fact. When Irving and I were young children at school so many years ago, we were taught many things about nature, one of which was the common woodland plants of our country. Jack-in-the-Pulpits featured among so many other spring-flowering plants.

 

So it was like greeting an old friend. It's still early yet for them to make an appearance, but there they were, two just-emerged clumps on the forest floor, on a part of the trail separated by several yards' distance where we'd never seen them before. The natural denizens of the forest also tend to gravitate elsewhere, looking for 'greener pastures' and where we were accustomed to seeing Jacks, and the only place in the forest, they are no longer to be seen. But they're popping up elsewhere.