Our youngest son travelled to Majorca several weeks ago to attend a biology conference. It was a three-day affair, after which he poked about there a bit and did some hiking. He emailed us last Monday suggesting an afternoon Zoom call. Ten o'clock his time in Majorca, and four in the afternoon for us. Of course we were excited about the call, we had so many questions and wanted so many answers. It isn't the first time he's been in Spain and on that previous occasion he did the same thing; travelled about and did some  hiking as well as seeing urban sights.

This time he decided he'd spend several weeks in Corsica. There are a lot of hiking trails there, and famously some history as well, since Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled to Corsica when he was deposed. These conferences tend to take place in different parts of Europe; he's been to Italy/Venice, Greece, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Sweden and once the conferences are over, as a biologist it's the geology and the forests that attract his attention.

He had looked up national parks and hiking trails and thought he'd have an enjoyable time. Well, last Monday's Zoom call was a disaster; we couldn't get the connection right. The video was acceptable, although it kept fading back and forth, but the sound was impossible. At his end and at ours we fiddled about hoping the solve the problem.

In the end, we chatted on the Zoom meeting. Not much different than an email. Well, he set up another Zoom meeting for this afternoon. I'm always nervous, so I prepared myself before the meeting time, then waited for the ten minutes to pass for the start.  At his end, Zoom did an 'update' on his computer, so he was late. When he finally came on about ten minutes later, once again we could see one another but there was no sound, and we ended up 'chatting'. In frustration, mostly. But we did get to see one another and that in itself is invaluable.

We had beautiful weather today, making up for yesterday's miserable non-stop wind and rain. The wind today was breeze-quality, the atmosphere much warmer, and the sky cerulean-blue. Jackie and Jillie took us off for a jaunt through the forest, where the canopy is filling out wonderfully. Now, if it rains when we're out in the forest, the foliage gives us fine protection unless we're in a violent thunderstorm.

Last night, because of the cool temperature and the lack of sun, the house interior was cool as well, so although I had been under the impression that soup du jour had run its fall/winter/early spring course, the day proved me wrong. A hearty, fragrant and very hot vegetable soup was just the kind of meal that suited us once again until summer actually arrives.

After our forest revel, a bit of garden work was in order. While sweeping up the enormous piles of fallen petals from the crabapple trees and magnolia, tremendous whacks of thunder roiled overhead warning of imminent rain of a thunderous quality. But it moved off threatening elsewhere, and the sky that had been dark eventually returned to blue. I planted some bright orange-gold marigolds, a few dahlias with giant blooms and a quartet of bright red begonias to liven up the front garden, and then we called it a day.