You've heard it before, I'm sure, in a variety of contexts: "It ain't over 'till it's over". And nowhere is that more true than winter, here in Ottawa. Spring has officially arrived, of course. And the snowpack that usually gathers in Ottawa on lawns and thoroughfares and urban forests has done some serious melting. I was trying to persuade Irving that he no longer has to put out carrots and peanuts and torn-up bread with peanut butter for the local wildlife, but he's not convinced. And so he bought another huge bag of peanuts from Ritchie's Feed & Seed, and more carrots.

Yesterday, while I was washing the floor in the foyer because it was cleaning day, and I was down on all fours, so was a little rabbit ,only he was munching a carrot on the other side of the glassed front door. He's so accustomed to being around and rabbiting away that he was undisturbed by my presence, as much as I was charmed by his. A larger rabbit that also comes around frequently is far less trusting.

When we took Jackie and Jillie to the ravine for our usual daily hike through the forest trails yesterday afternoon, most of the snow had melted on the hillsides, the snowmelt trickled into the creek and it was rushing imperiously downstream, at the height of spring run-off. The forest looked drab and dreary, all dark colours, the only hint of the monochromatic green to come, that of the conifers, outnumbered by the naked branches of deciduous trees.

Last night, comfortable in bed, I awoke at around 4:00 a.m. and lifted an eyelid, then both, when I realized there was no moon to be seen, despite yesterday's balmy 6C, and full sun. Instead, what caught my attention was the aluminum glare of a snowy sky, and a heavy burden of snow weighing down the cedar hedge behind us, and the branches of trees further off in the distance. Dismayed? Not one bit. I felt a surge of comfort and anticipation wash over me, and quickly fell back to sleep.

Mind, all that snow meant getting up before breakfast to shovel out pathways for Jackie and Jillie in the backyard. I had earlier, around six o'clock ,let Jackie out the back when I heard him woofing downstairs to go out. He was out quite awhile, and when he entered the  house to leap onto the settle covered with towels he was a little snowdog. As soon as I wiped him down he sped back upstairs to bed, and I did the same. So the shovelling was done and the pups went out to do their business. And the snow just kept coming.

Official figures haven't yet eventuated for the early-spring snowfall, but I would guess about 20cm at least. And snow kept coming steadily down until early afternoon. The temperature high for the day stood at -5C, with a 35-km/hr wind. When we did venture out to the ravine later in the day we knew enough from a previous experience and the fact that the bottoms of our boots kept clotting with packed snow while shovelling, to leave our cleats behind and just set out with winter boots. 

What a transformation. April 8, it may be, but it's a winter wonderland again in the forest. We watched as robins kept swooping down to the creek; some had been newly returned on their reverse spring migration from southern climes, but some among them had spent the winter in this region. The ducks that we saw yesterday in the creek were nowhere to be seen.

And Jackie and Jillie were beside themselves with  joy at the snow's return. They ran back and forth, hither and yon, their little booted paws making deep impressions in the snow, their expressions sheer happiness. Branches were fully festooned with thick layers of snow. From time to time the wind lifted snow from branches to create a wispy waterfall of light snow.

Lifting our heads and looking above, we could see the sun, bright behind a curtain of luminous clouds, trying to break through. We had a wonderful trek through the trails, the captivating winter landscape utterly breathtaking. Mind, it felt cold, and colder yet with the force of the wind, but the beauty surrounding us was priceless.