Ours is a very quiet street with a mix of housing density, a street that gets very little traffic outside of residents slowly driving back and forth. A good street for children to play hockey in the winter and toss basketballs into hoops at the end of driveways in the summer months, riding their bicycles up and down the street. And for dogs to be walked by their persons, who on occasion stop for small talk as they pass neighbours' houses.

Jackie and Jillie haven't had very much experience walking at street level, much less walking in an orderly manner on paved streets adjacent roadways with high traffic volumes. Irving had taken his car in to get an oil change yesterday morning. Instead of waiting for it to be done, he decided to walk back home. Long before he reached home, there was a call from the garage that the car was ready to be picked up.

 

Instead, when he finally returned home (he had stopped first on the way home to pick up several light summer tops for me, as though I need any more), we decided it would make more sense to get out with the puppies for a hike through the ravine. A relatively shortened circuit, because we had an appointment to keep in early afternoon. So off we went for the forest hike, and when we returned we left the puppies !!!alone at home!!! so we could arrive unencumbered to receive our six-month COVID update shot. Evidently wastewater testing indicates that the incidence of COVID is rising once again, and the elderly are returning to hospital for treatment, with some unfortunate deaths among them.

That done, when we returned home, we all set off again this time with Jackie and Jillie on leash to walk down to the commercial business area not too far from our home, to pick up the car. The closer we got to the high-travelled roads the more resoundingly noisy it was. Our two are not particularly good on leash; Jackie tends not to walk in a straight line, preferring little jaunts here and there; left, then right. As the sounds increased jarringly, he kept leaping up at me, asking to be picked up.

Eventually we reached the location of the garage and that was a relief. I sat with them in the car for the brief period it took for Irving to get the work print-out and settle the bill. This morning, he decided he'd take the truck in for an oil change, but this time he waited at the garage for the work to be done, and drove home with the finished truck. And then we set off for our regular ravine hike.

 

Both days gave us cooler weather, quite windy, but sunny. Absolutely perfect for trips through the forest. Just as yesterday, this afternoon familiar dogs arrived bounding straight for Irving for their cookie treats, much to the delight of Jackie and Jillie who always profit from the exchange. The avian forest dwellers are just as pleased as we are, by this perfect weather. The woods resounded with the raw caws of crows, the melodious sounds of robins and cardinals and the distinctive call of peewees.

Although the volume of water running through the creek at the bottom of the ravine is down considerably from the height it attained during the rainy days just past, a Mallard drake was paddling downstream, the very picture of bucolic tranquility, always a treat to see. 

 

We're still marvelling at the spread of Jack-in-the-Pulpits through the forest this summer. We love seeing them. An amazing bloom of blackberry flowers augers a real bumper crop of the berries this year, throughout the forest where they thrive.

 

Later, when we returned home, I finished planting the last of the annuals in the garden; just a few flats, one of lobellia as a filler for the garden pots, the other, wax begonias to fill in areas of the various garden beds where I can see too much vacant garden soil. I enjoy cramming the flowers in to make a continuous embroidery of bright colours everywhere I look. Glancing out doors and windows seeing the full texture and colour of the gardens, simply gladdens my soul.

 

After yesterday's unending series of thunderous rainfalls with no relief throughout the day, we had to resign ourselves to the inescapable fact that we were skunked out of a hike through the forest for the day. Jackie and Jillie don't take kindly to getting soaked, even with their raincoats on; scant cover under the ferocity of stormy rainfalls. So brief trips to the backyard had to suffice yesterday. We woke this morning to a thoroughly drenched world, and the result of even more rain through the night was obvious.

 

In a morning break from rain, we went out with Jackie and Jillie to the backyard to see how the garden there had fared. Jackie and Jillie are always on the alert for the presence of other creatures unauthorized by them, the guardians of the property, but they failed to notice a tiny hare almost hidden in the grass in front of the large garden shed. I ushered them back indoors to give the little creature a full opportunity to browse the grass, before letting them back out again.

 

 

We've seen these little fellows around for decades, generations after generations of them. The garden is just the place for them to nibble on whatever takes their fancy; this spring it was emerging tulips. In the winter they visit for peanuts they share with the squirrels at the back door. The hares don't have far to go to venture a little further and reach the forest, just across the street from our house. 

 

 

Later, in the afternoon, another break in sporadic, much lighter than yesterday's outbursts, gave us the opportunity to get out for a hike through the forest with Jackie and Jillie. The footing was fine. The forest floor had absorbed an astounding amount of moisture, and the creek below was in full thrust, swollen with rain. When we ventured out there was some blue evident in the sky amidst widespread clouds, mostly white, but the high wind was moving the clouds expeditiously and bringing along darker clouds.

 

 

Since it was a cool 19C, plus the wind, we wore rain jackets, but had no need of them, as it happened. Miss one day of tramping through the woods and surprises await you. Woodland spring phlox is now in bloom. The Jack-in-the-Pulpits continue to reign supreme, and we came across some truly robust specimens, always a delight to see. It seems that everything is turning up on the forest floor earlier than usual, given the moist weather that is prevailing. We saw those delicate little blooms of fleabane, surprising us with their unexpected appearance.

 

 

When our relatively short circuit was completed, we ambled back up to street level and made our way home. Once there, we look around at the garden to see how the growing things we nurture, perennial and annual are doing, and everything seemed to be thriving. With the notable exception of the tree peony which had performed splendidly for the past several weeks, producing huge pink blossoms, now utterly bedraggled. And then the skies opened up again with a quick, heavy downpour. 

 

Jackie and Jillie were due for a grooming, and they had an early afternoon appointment at the 'spa' attached to the veterinarian clinic we've been using for the last thirty years. The young women there are an absolute delight, taking pleasure in what they do, and so obviously caring for all the dogs and cats they expertly groom. Jackie and Jillie are familiar and comfortable with the process. It takes about an hour and a half for their bath and haircuts. In that period of time we went off to do our food shopping as usual for a Tuesday.   

 

Now that the weather is obligingly cooler, we've been inspired to take longer hiking circuits in the ravine.  We did that on Friday, and again today, ending up spending more like two hours wandering about, than the usual hour or so. Today, cardinals and robins were ecstatic and sang their musical praise of Mother Nature. There was also the raucous calls of crows, but now that the forest canopy is finally fully leafed out, our overhead search for any owls the crows might be harassing hasn't borne any fruit.

 

We needed light jackets for complete comfort, given the wind of the last three days and the cooler temperatures. Sun no longer penetrates the canopy cover, so when we were in the 30C range last week the shade the canopy cast was a relief. When it's really hot out like that even flies appear to want to escape the searing heat. Heat and humidity is when opening doors to the outdoors risks inviting flies into the house. And Jackie and Jillie react badly to flies flitting about indoors; the ultimate assault of their castle. 

 

Our trek through the trails on this day was notable for the discovery of new items of interest. Generally speaking any time we're out in the forest we'll see at least one thing that we hadn't seen before, either because we missed it, or that it has just cropped up in plain sight. Like the first of the Buttercups we saw today. And the wild blackberry canes beginning to flower. They flower before the raspberry and thimbleberries do, even though they ripen long after the latter two do.

 

And now, the understory thickets of Dogwood are going into full bloom. Once they start, the process seems to accelerate and day by day they move steadily toward full bloom. The pannicles of flowers seem to shine like silver when the sun hits them as it does the taller of the  Dogwoods that take on the height of small trees.

 

And not far from the most extensive colony on our usual circuit, honeysuckle shrubs -- far less numerous in presence in the ravine -- are also beginning to bloom; the pink varieties first, then the white. We passed a few Columbine wildflowers, surprised to see them there, but pleased at the sight of them. They always bring to mind the cultivation of typical perennials to be found in an English country garden.

 

A few other people we passed on the trails were as pleased as we were with the turn in the weather and how pleasant it makes our trips through the forest. Their companion dogs tend to line up cordially to one another, awaiting the opportunity to cadge a few cookies before we part company after brief pleasantries. 

 

When we arrived back home, we stopped awhile to talk to a newly-wedded couple, living at home with parents for the first few years of their marriage; a family we've known since the groom was a toddler. That's another thing that aligns with the weather; being out on the street now guarantees coming in contact with neighbours and spending time speaking with one another. Yesterday the young man told us that the wedding gift we'd given them turned into a special dinner at a 'posh' restaurant, and that was a treat to hear.

 

And then, because there are some vacant spaces in various places in some of the garden beds and borders we drove back to the plant nursery we've picked up a good portion of this summer's annuals from, that volunteered to produce us with summer-long satisfaction with their aesthetic appeal for us, and made a selection of an additional few flats of young plants; verbena, wax begonias, lobelias and petunias, and I set about in a light shower, to plant most of theme.

Those meant for planters and garden space in the backyard will await another opportunity, another day. 

 

Although we've moved steadily into a seriously warm trend with temperatures in the high 20s, we haven't yet turned on the air conditioner. But Irving did haul a couple of floor fans up from the basement, and they're making a cooling difference. Jillie kept asking to go out on the deck in the morning to bask in the sun, but by afternoon she had lost interest in basking and devoted herself to cooling off under the family room coffee table, abandoning the bed upstairs where she usually seeks comfort.

 

Jackie is more blase about the heat. They both wanted to accompany me out to the back garden, but didn't last long, they never do. Despite enjoying our trail  hikes through the ravine they're basically house-loving dogs. Irving was out on the deck, giving the barbecue that's now seen over thirty years of use, a deep cleaning. Although in the winter he covers it securely against the elements, he often finds a little mouse nest inside. Instead of placing food directly on the grill itself he always uses a fine-barred stainless steel grid that I can put into the dishwasher after each use. 

I had decided to cut back some of the tall branches of our old purple smoke tree. It's always late leafing out, but even so it should have begun showing signs of new life by now. It stands beside the backyard Magnolia tree and it looks positively lifeless. Irving thought he should just chop it down, but while I was trimming, I could see that some of the lower branches were finally hosting tiny bits of green emerging foliage, so we'll leave it a while yet, although we're puzzled that it suddenly seems to have died, yet perhaps not quite yet.

Earlier in the morning Irving had mowed the front lawn, and since our direct neighbour whose lawn is contiguous with ours is away on a trip, he did their lawn as well, although their adult son who lives with them is supposed to be doing those household chores. Everything, for the most part, looks amazingly healthy, an attribution no doubt owing to the massive amounts of rain we've had  as well as ample sun.

 

When we set out for the ravine the temperature had reached its warmest point for the day and we were feeling it. The puppies were anxious to get out for their amble through the forest and given the heat, and their tongues hanging out, Irving took along with us their water bottle. We urged them to have a drink before we left the house and they refused. Out on the trails, after climbing a few of the hills, he offered them some of the cool, clear water and they were absolutely disinterested, walking away when the water trough was placed under their little snouts.

 

 

Some of the other ravine-walking denizens of the community surrounding the forest were out and they were, as usual focused on cookies. Unlike Jackie and Jillie who never venture into the cool running waters of the creek, most of the big dogs we come across make a beeline for the water, revelling in it, cooling off and delighting their senses. It doesn't take long for Irving to run out of the large-size cookies he brings along for the dogs who know him as the Cookie Man.

 

 

I dressed all in white today; light summer top and bottom, and as a result was hardly bothered by the swarms of mosquitoes, unlike previous days. On the other hand, the level of humidity was decreased today in comparison to previous days. Even Irving's bright red, short-sleeved jersey didn't attract the little bloodsuckers that appear to have semi-retreated in the ferocity of the sun, despite the shade of the forest canopy.

 

 

Back home again, Jackie and Jillie raced about the house in a wild fervor of anticipation over their routine back-home fresh chopped vegetable salad of beans, cucumber, bell pepper and tomatoes. Their evening post-dinner vegetable treat is mostly cauliflower and broccoli that has been briefly introduced to the microwave oven. And then a tour in the front garden to see what's been happening. The alliums are beginning to bloom; one of the clematis vines has put out the first flower and the two Sargenti crab trees are in full flower. Ah, the bliss of the garden and its natural ornamental value to the quality of our lives in summer!

 

 

 

 

Seems we've settled into a pattern. Overnight rain followed by either of two scenarios; morning-to-afternoon sun, or daytime overcast and forecasts of intermittent showers. I've discovered to my dismay, resuming gardening for another blissful summer of raising beautiful annuals and coaxing perennials to bloom, that the ants that last year infested one of the garden beds have returned after all. Late last summer after their persistent predation that destroyed some of our annuals, we acquired a liquid said to be lethal to ants. Drops applied to an aluminum disposable dish (a tiny one) or a cardboard disk seemed to work.

 

And when I planted the annuals a few weeks back there was no sight of ants; I assumed the treatment had succeeded. Previously, digging into the soil at that point in the garden bed would rouse hundreds of ants scurrying out of the soil. Then, a week ago I saw the first of this year's destroyed zinnias, and realized that the colony had resisted the antecide assault and having survived were once again prospering at the expense of the plants. I even found that the new garden soil in one of our garden planters was infested with more of the tiny beasts.

This time I used very small cupcake paper forms, nailed their centers with thick toothpicks to the soil, and dropped the liquid pesticide sparingly into the forms and waited for my malign intentions to succeed. Trouble is since it rains every night and washes the papers clean, reapplication has to be done every day, and I don't yet see the problem resolving. I did, however, see plenty of ants in the paper cups enjoying the liquid.

So, there were things to be done in the kitchen, as well. And I decided since I had one large ultra-ripe banana that it would be perfect included in a batter for carrot muffins. I took one very large carrot, grated it, mashed the banana, set aside raisins, cut up tiny pieces of crystallized ginger, and prepared to bake carrot-banana muffins, topped with sliced almonds. A resounding success.

 

When we ventured out to the ravine later it was on a humid, warm and slightly windy day. Just perfect for a hike through the forest trails. Perfection, however eluded, thanks to the presence of newly-hatched mosquitoes whose larvae found perfect conditions in the pools of standing rainwater, thanks to those overnight rain events. I wore a white polka-dotted top and black pants. My upper body became immune to the mosquitoes, but my black trousers invited them to do their darndest.

Even Jackie and Jillie were harassed by the tiny predators, thanks to their black haircoats. Jillie in particular has a real hate-on for all flying insects. A large black fly, despite the care we take, managed to get into the house on one of the countless times we open the patio doors for Jackie and Jillie. They both station themselves at the doors in the house interior, waiting for the fly to perch at their level in its efforts to return to the outdoors. Our two little poodles identify flies as the 'enemy' and do their utmost to 'catch' them when they enter the house.

 

 

Down by the creek, we saw the lone Mallard drake coasting along and dabbling continually, obviously pecking away at floating vegetable detritus, and verbalizing his gratitude continually. Jackie and Jillie have become accustomed to seeing the Mallards; so far a pair, plus the lone drake that we think is an offspring of the other Mallard drake and its companion hen. When I attempted to photograph him, I discovered my camera battery unresponsive.

 

Just a few moments before, I had taken a few photographs of a Jack-in-the-Pulpit on the interior forest floor; I find them irresistible, reminding me of when I was an elementary school child 80 years ago, and during natural science classes geared toward my age group at the time were photographic exposures to Ontario wildflowers in season. Even then, as a child, I thought the Jacks were so exotic with their single-hooded petal hiding an interior of striped purple and pale green.

 

 

 

These have been days of late as perfect as can be fantasized about for spring. Let's start with the weather; days of sunshine, even those days when it has also rained. April gave us ample rain and May entered continuing the formula of rain and sun, the most appealing combination to convince all green growing things to manifest themselves, leave their winter underground abode for the opportunity to thrill the gardener or the wildflower enthusiast.

 

The appeal of yesterday's just-perfect weather saw us out good and early, catering both to Jackie and Jillie, and to our own need of communing with nature. Nature reciprocated as generously as ever she does. An abundance of coltsfoot are still in evidence, although the earliest blooming ones are now going to seed, just as dandelions do, changing their head-dress from a bright yellow halo, centred with orange, to a fluffy-white nimbus.

 

There are ferns popping up everywhere on the hillsides and the lower reaches of the forest floor, unfurling in that old familiar curlicue that bespeaks the presence of green-bitter edible fiddleheads. Along with the ferns the trout lilies are now in full bloom, colonizing the forest with their delicate nodding heads of soft golden petals.

 

 

As we hiked uphill and down, through the forest on various winding and interconnecting trails, we heard owls and cardinals praising that beautiful day. The cardinals in a paean of appreciation,the owls having a back-and-forth conversation. Now and again we'd be met by one or another, or sometimes several at a time, neighbourhood dogs out with their companions enjoying the day. One by one, or two by two, stopping beside us for the Cookie Man to react as anticipated.

Before we left the forest, on one of the upper trails we discovered a newly-emerged garter snake, perfectly positioned to catch the rays of the sun, warming itself after its long, cold and damp winter hibernation under the soil and leafmass of the forest floor. Jackie and Jillie usually don't notice snakes, but this time they did, and were curious. The little reptile partially lifted its head, opened its jaw menacingly (hah!) and they stepped back, curious but cautious.

 

Later, we two went off for the second time in as many days, to a local plant nursery to see what we could see. What we saw was the rapturous sight of rows upon rows of colourful plants begging to be taken home, knowing how much our garden yearns to welcome them. The day previously we came home with begonias and zinnias and million bells and lobelias and chrysanthemums, prepared to leave them in the garden shed should the weather turn cold again.

And yesterday another adventure in selecting plants had us consulting each other and making careful choices, both perennial and annual; more begonias to be sure, Canna lilies and Shasta daisies and a cornucopia of fillers, fulfilling our ambition to be prepared to plant in a week or so hence. Oh, the heady experience of walking through a greenhouse, the overwhelming sensuality of the sweet fragrance of the blooms!

 

As the weather turns warmer, thoughts of transitioning from cold-weather fare begin to nudge my cooking consciousness. And so I begin to set aside the kind of cuisine that's so comforting on icy winter days, and dredge my memory's recipe files for other, alternative meals. That was the case evening before yesterday and it will increasingly be so, as we steadily move from midspring to early summer. A fresh garden salad seemed about right, pairing it with a fish chowder; different taste sensations to freshen our appetites.

 

 

As for baking desserts, fruit combinations come to mind, and pies containing those fruit choices seem appropriate. Which meant, because I had apples that needed to be used, they were sliced, dredged with cornstarch and sugar, dampened with cranberry juice, then simmered until the juice had thickened and the apples were just about cooked. The steaming apples are introduced to a few tablespoons of butter, lots of cinnamon and last, raisins. All that's left to do is to roll out pie crust and bake the pie. As soon said, as done!

 

It was still fairly early by the time I got a chicken soup simmering on the stove for our evening meal, and the weather beckoned. Another blissful day of 20C, with the sun swimming happily in the vast ocean of the blue sky, warming the atmosphere to the extent that the gentle breezes that persisted most of the day were very welcome.

 

Jackie and Jillie shared part of their hike through the forest trails with two neighbouring dogs they've known for years who just happened to be coming through the trails as we were. They were all so absorbed in the aromas lifting from the forest floor they barely spent any more than the cursory backend sniff between them, before it was nose to the ground again.

 

Our eyes were busy, as it happened, looking out for more woodland wildflowers and we weren't disappointed. Trout lilies have spread their early-spring-blooming colonies over the years, and the plants themselves seem far more productive of flowers. In one area where the ridges and hillsides of the ravine rise above the trail far below street level, there are more flowers in bloom than we can ever recall; delightful, fragile and searching for the sun, the trout lilies with their soft, bright yellow and pale red stamens are a delight to the eye.

 

We came across other neighbourhood dogs out with a major focus on acquainting themselves with community news, and whenever they realize that the Cookie Man is in neat proximity they make a proverbial beeline for  his location, happy to be re-acquainted, and placidly sitting before him while making the statement that their good behaviour merits at least two cookies each.

 

Even the pair of Mallards were out yesterday, in an area of the creek we'd never seen them in before, steaming through a screen of saplings on the bank of the creek, just beginning to fill out with tender new foliage. We also noted that a few of the first of the spring woodland violets are displaying themselves; for the present, the emphasis is on 'few', but it won't be long before they begin springing to life everywhere.

 

 

At home, in the garden, we were surprised by the larger of our two magnolia trees; seemingly overnight, courtesy of the warmth and the sun the buds that had informed us throughout the winter months that this would be a good flowering year for the trees, had begun to open their bright pink flowers, a sight to behold.