We've had no reason to try to see our family doctor since the turn of the year, and perhaps it's just as well on many levels. Access of course being one. The other perhaps more critical, is that the state of our health hasn't dictated a doctor's appointment. Immediately the lockdown in Canada commenced we had received an email from the family health clinic our family physician practises out of that it too was going into lockdown. Appointments by telephone only. Emergency? Hospital.

Since then, one would imagine, things have relaxed somewhat. Appointments, if required, can be arranged for physical examinations. Mask wearing is mandatory, needless to say. And only one individual may be given admission to the waiting room at a time. Escorted in and out. We're kept updated with regularly spaced email notices. Seeing a doctor is like pulling teeth. Glad not to have to.

But speaking of pulling teeth. I lost a filling several weeks ago on the inner portion of a top front tooth. Inconvenient and irritating. The tooth felt as though it had developed a huge cavern. I was meticulous about keeping it free of food. And made an appointment with our dentist. At the conclusion of the telephone conversation when I secured a date two weeks hence, I was asked a series of questions.

Did I have any symptoms of COVID? Had I travelled out of the province? Out of the country? Was I related to anyone who had COVID? Had I visited with them? Did I have a fever? That done, I was instructed to arrive five minutes early for the appointment. I would receive a telephone call inviting me to enter the premises when the dentist was ready to see me. That changed, however, when we arrived five minutes early this afternoon, and an attendant, noting our vehicle entering the parking lot came out directly to escort me into the building.

Mask on. Asked to use the disinfectant on hands on entering. Checked forehead with an electronic device for fever. Responded once again to the same series of questions, ticked off on a sheet. Asked to remain seated in the waiting room where another person was waiting for his appointment to commence. Waited five minutes, was escorted into one of the pods completely enclosed with heavy plastic draperies.

Mask off, protective glasses on. Our friendly dentist proceeded with the work at hand, which took less than fifteen minutes, restoring a filling to the tooth. She wore a mask, rubber gloves, and a clear plastic face covering; her voice came through muffled but as cheerful as usual. No cash exchanges hands any longer, it's all credit or debit cards to pay the portion of the fee that insurance doesn't cover.

It helps that everyone there is so personable. And out I went, escorted back to the parking lot.

Glad that's over. What a nuisance. What a sea change in the casual manner in which all these things were conducted in the past. Sobering, and still difficult to believe. This has turned out to be the hottest day yet in a series of over-heated, high-humidity days. By noon it was already 34C, but a nice little breeze helped tolerate the searing heat.

Earlier in the day we'd had a pre-breakfast trundle through the ravine's forest trails with Jackie and Jillie. The forest interior always looks dark as one enters, but darker than usual when the surrounding air resembles a blast furnace, with the humidity along with that infernal heat creating a barely visible light haze. Wide rays of sunlight spark through the forest canopy and we take care not to stop directly in the sun after gaining a hilltop, moving automatically over to the shade. Even Jackie and Jillie try to avoid standing directly in the sun.

Just as wel, it isn't difficult to avoid sun patches since for the most part the trails are well shaded, given the close-packed nature of trees in a mature forest. Mature, but not virgin. In all likelihood over the past hundred, hundred-and-fifty years, the forest has been logged out numerous times. There are still huge old pines; probably puny striplings the last time the forest was logged out, and left to grow. Among the firs and the spruces, yews and cedars, oaks and maples, poplars and birches, beeches and hawthorns, hackberry and ash, and many more.

Just as we had almost cleared the dinner table yesterday evening, Jackie and Jillie informed us they had an inclination to go out to the backyard. So I continued removing our dinner dishes to the kitchen sink, and my husband accompanied our two little imps outside on a still-balmy spring evening with a gentle breeze and the setting sun. This, just before dusk began seriously arriving.

And then my husband called out to me to come over to the patio doors and look out. My reward was the sight of a wide sliver of bright pink sky painted on the horizon by that setting sun. Beyond beautiful, though not as spectacular as many we've seen in other years, but there will be other evenings when the sky presents in jewel colours, in a much wider scope that will take our breath away. It's that time of year. One of mother nature's gifts.

We'd had a busy day for a Sunday. When we were out on the street walking back and forth from our daily ramble in the ravine with our puppies we saw more neighbours out on their lawns than we would ordinarily see, and each lawn we passed was an invitation to linger and enjoy a conversation with people we've known for many years. At a discreet distance, observing the novel-coronavirus-recommended separation.

Lawns and gardens have dried out finally given a lull in the rain and warmer temperatures, wind and sun. People have come out of their confinement in their houses with rakes and determination to spend some time out-of-doors and prepare for spring clean-up.

When we arrived home, I set about preparing dinner. Rolling out bread dough, spreading it with butter, sprinkling sesame seed over, then grating cheddar cheese, folding the dough in thirds, turning it, rolling it into another rectangle, repeating the filling process, folding and rolling again. Then leaving it to 'relax'. While I chopped up onion and garlic into olive oil in a pot, sprinkled over fennel and cumin seeds and garam marsala to briefly saute. Chopped up tomatoes, zucchini and carrot, added that with the rinsed lentils, then boiling water and tomato paste, and let it all summer with a chicken stock cube.  Back to the dough, to roll it out for the last time, cut it into triangles and roll it into shape.

Today, a meal that requires far less preparation; omelettes, vegetable salad and leftover blueberry cheesecake, because we've been busy all day. Cleaning the house, clearing away detritus from the winter outside on our own lawn. And then finally, heading out with Jackie and Jillie leading the way, to the ravine for an afternoon hike through the woods. Not as warm as yesterday, absent the sun and the wind brisker this time around. It seemed very warm while we were in the backyard doing some yardwork, but on the street and then in the ravine it was considerably cooler.

We all took our time moseying about, noting how dry suddenly everything looks. How deep the fall foliage appears on the forest floor. How monotonous the colour in the landscape before  any leafing-out takes place; were it not for the presence of conifers with their dark green needles the landscape would look even more bleakly sere than it does. But the trails are finally beginning to dry, not as muddy as they have been.

And as soon as we move into May we'll be met with one welcome surprise after another as the spring wildflowers begin to emerge bringing form and colour to the landscape. A natural routine that couldn't be more familiar, but guaranteed to excite us every time it recurs. Trout lilies and trilliums, violets and strawberries, foamflower and Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Solomon's seal, anemone, daisies, apple blossoms, honeysuckle, and more....