Another gorgeous spring day of balmy temperatures and full sun. But for a brief interval when clouds moved in to presage rain. Rain, in fact, did its best to fall, but it struggled without much success. We had just entered the ravine to begin an afternoon circuit through the forest trails when fat drops of rain hit our heads. The question: proceed as planned, or retreat to the dry comfort of the house? We just kept moving downhill, all of us in agreement that we'd risk a soaking.

 

As we moved close to the creek on a path paralleling the waterway, we could see those typical wide circular wavelets that transpire when heavy drops hit water and thought, so be it. The protective cover of the forest canopy, even bare of foliage, kept us fairly dry and then the dark clouds passed, overtaken by bright white counterparts and the rain ceased.

 

 

Jackie and Jillie would certainly be puzzled if we were to have reversed our intentions to enjoy the peace and serenity of our usual traipse through the woods. They barely heeded the thick raindrops, mostly because few hit them. These are the same little dogs that hesitate and balk to exit the house to the backyard when it's raining. Out in the forest, they're tougher, prepared to rough it out a bit for the pleasure of romping about here and there and inhaling the exquisite fragrances of nature and springtime.

 

 

We found the Mallard pair still in residence, close to the outtake of the forest creek, dipping and diving for algae and whatever else they plan for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They pay no attention whatever to our presence, although the male on occasion seems to glance in our direction. They're too busy fishing about in the water streaming with edible microscopic life forms.

Later, when we were preparing to exit the forest, we suddenly saw on its perimeter, bright sparks of new colour and looking closer identified emerging lungwort in bloom. Obviously seeds from the early-spring-blooming garden plant (pulmonaria) must have drifted over from a nearby garden; or dogs might have carried the seeds in their haircoats or paws, even people tracking through with seeds on the ridges of their boots.

 

They're perennials and flourish in the rich soil of the forest floor, poking their way up and through the desiccated mat of last year's autumn foliage - that of the year before that and ad ifinitum. The same plants in our garden have just emerged but they're a long way from blooming.

On our return, with the sun fully renascent, we stayed out for an hour or so to begin unwrapping our multitude of stone urns, garden pots, and garden statuary. They've been covered for the winter months to spare them from the effects of snow and ice, frost and defrosting that take place over winter. Sheer bliss to be out there in these weather conditions, busying ourselves tidying up, lifting the plastic coverings, liberating the garden from the last vestiges of winter.