Cool, dry and sunny today, I decided it would be the perfect time to fertilize the garden pots, and even some of the garden areas for the first time this summer. While I was filling the watering pails and dissolving the fertilizer I did an automatic inventory of the flowers, mostly annuals, inhabiting the pots and thought they needed the extra boost. Halfway through, I heard a faint voice calling my name, and there, at the end of the driveway was Margaret, on her way around the block, and back to her home on the street behind ours.

 

I haven't seen her in several weeks, and even in that brief period, she looks more like a wisp of humanity than ever as she toddled uncertainly down the street, following our conversation. She and Chris, she told me, had been down East to visit with family. Several of their grandchildren were graduating from university and they had a wonderful time with family. Margaret is nothing if not the sweetest person in the neighbourhood. It's good to see her ambulatory despite the obvious effort it takes for her.

 

 

Earlier in the day I was busy in the kitchen, baking a blueberry pie for dinner. Dinner dessert, that is. I also put a chicken soup on to simmer, and planned closer to dinnertime to prepare a mushroom-gravy chicken thigh dish to be served over sticky, Asian-style rice, Irving's favourite combination. Fresh berries are now so plentiful and the cost is extremely reasonable; making the fruit into pies a special treat at this time of year, although serving the fruit with yoghurt is another option.

 

 

We had gone out with Jackie and Jillie earlier in the afternoon, for our usual saunter through the ravine. It isn't all 'saunter', granted, since it is a ravine, after all, and that means hills to be climbed and the descents that come with ascents as we make our way in a circuit long familiar to our puppies. In areas where there are little groves of Serviceberry trees, the air is saturated with the perfume of their flowers en route to becoming summer berries.

 

We saw no one else out on this perfect late-spring day approaching the summer equinox, the first official day of summer. Song sparrows in the forest treated us to the most sublimely melodic melodies, and we could also hear the manic cries of a Pileated woodpecker. Walking down by the creek we looked for any signs that the Mallard ducks might still be in residence, but none appeared, and we take it that they've moved on, after spending several months here on their way back to their permanent summer habitat.

 

 

Nor did we see the Great Blue Heron that has continued to intrigue us when we glimpse it from time to time rising from the creek into the forest beyond. Jackie and Jillie on occasion make a half-hearted dash for squirrels and then wonder where the wily little creatures are, when they make directly for the trunk of nearby trees to disappear from their sight, clever enough to position themselves on the opposite side to where Jackie searches out their presence, leaving him beyond puzzled.

 

 

On our return back home, we sat awhile out in the front garden, relaxing, enjoying the richness of the garden colours, and discussing between us the debate that took place the night before when the two unlikeliest of presidential candidates in the United States -- each the most controversial figure imaginable -- performed, each to his level of mental competence, which isn't saying much, as it happens.

 

Realistically, and regrettably, Canada hasn't too much to boast about in the political arena, with a prime minister and federal cabinet that has proven itself over the years to be incompetent, divisive and destructive of the most basic values of Canadian inheritance.  The electorate, in fact, is well and truly sick of the ethical and moral lapses of the current government. 

 

The Americans, at least, have their general election in the coming months; Canadians must wait another full year and more before they have the opportunity to bid the current Members of Parliament farewell...not soon enough!

 

Little wonder we equate summer with spontaneity, when we are able on the spur of the moment to do anything in the outdoors we enjoy without necessary advance preparations to face the weather. Today, yet another warm, breezy and sunny day. The backyard inviting us to mosey about, looking at the gardens, admiring whatever has most recently gone into bloom. For their part, Jackie and Jillie busying themselves sniffing about for the irresistible scents of the rabbits. 

 

 

The bearded irises are now in flower, so are the Mountain Bluet, the bleeding hearts, and the Ladies Mantle in the rock garden. And surprise, one of our oldest climbing roses has also started to bloom. Then there's the lovely shade of pastel orange of a peony which has finally decided to flower this spring, the first time ever in its four-year residence in the garden. Jackie and Jillie may be engrossed in sniffing out the presence of squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits, but I'm enthralled with the sight of nature's generosity of flowers.

 

Irving planned to barbecue chicken drumsticks for dinner tonight, so I thought that coleslaw would accompany them very nicely, and shredded cabbage, carrot, sliced onion and dried cranberries into a salad we could enjoy later on today, with a piquant dressing including apple cider. 

 

We set off relatively early in the afternoon for our quotidian tryst in the forest hoping that the breeze would keep the mosquitoes down to a manageable level. The robins are really enjoying this weather in the ravine. At this time of spring we always see robins scurrying about on the forest floor for whatever reason for an avian species they find bipedalism appealing at this time of year, but it's a kind of robin-ritual we've been long familiar with.

 

Jackie and Jillie don't even find it in them to chase the robins any longer; they're as accustomed to seeing them on the trails and beyond now, as we are. Their songs followed us, adding yet another melodic note of serene pleasure to our outing. We also saw the yellow flash of warblers in flight around the forest creek. And adjacent one of the trails, we watched as a Hairy woodpecker flitted from tree to tree until one tree trunk satisfied its search.

 

As we once again approached the creek on our way doubling back on the circuit we had chosen for the day, we came again across the one clump of wildflowers we now know as an invasive species, to be found in the forest as far as we could see. Growing just above the creek on its bank, the oddest 'aquatic' group of beautiful yellow irises we've ever seen. They have a reputation for aggressiveness in pushing out native vegetation, yet evidently though we've never seen them before last year, never even imagined their existence, there is but a single clump.

 

Himalayan orchids, another invasive Asian species on the other hand, really are aggressive in their habit, and we've seen them proliferating in parts of the forest for years, now being challenged, their presence much diminished since the appearance of fast-spreading thimbleberry shrubs (purple raspberry) that have in their turn colonized the area fast being vacated by the orchids.

 

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.

Today has been a day of pleasant surprises. First one occurred when we saw it was 9C this morning, not the 0C we had yesterday morning. Which inspired a sunny breakfast with a big smiley-face and the anticipation that we'd enjoy a beautiful spring day. Until we looked at the paper which gave the forecast informing us that the wide blue sky that had shone uninterruptedly last night, hosting a brilliant spring moon would cloud over by afternoon, dismissing the morning sun as high winds picked up and rain began.

Since we had an afternoon appointment at the veterinarian clinic, we decided we'd go out earlier than usual with Jackie and Jillie to enjoy a long circuit through the ravine's forest before the weather turned. Even though we were out early, clouds had moved in, the sun was cloistered and the wind turned the mild temperature slightly tempestuous. Still, mild enough that Jackie and Jillie needed no sweaters for comfort.

 

We weren't out long before we had a surprise visitor; Millie suddenly appeared before us, eagerly greeting the Cookie Man and offering to relieve him of some of those cookies weighting down his pack. He was happy to oblige, we hadn't seen her in such a long time. Even Jackie and Jillie were happy to see Millie, since if she was getting big cookies, they could cadge little ones for themselves.

 

Even with the wind and the disappearance of the sun, the temperature had nudged up to 18C, so the day demanded we make the most of our opportunity to enjoy a fine midspring day. We are so familiar with the terrain that we know where to look for wildflowers that tend to colonize specific areas on the forest floor. I wanted to see whether the trout lilies had begun to make an appearance, even the trilliums. What we did see is that the lilies-of-the-valley that had already erupted in the areas we most generally frequent had yet to make an appearance anywhere along the larger circuit.

 

But the trout lilies, although not yet in flowering mode (and they wouldn't flower unless the sun was out to begin with) were there in abundance, and to our great gratification so too were the purple trilliums beginning to make their appearance in other familiar areas. 

 

 

The forest floor on the forest plateau above the ravine where we soon found ourselves, remains saturated from all the rain that has occupied our days of late. Assuring us that before long our walks will be accompanied by hordes of mosquitoes, not  yet in evidence.

 

Our morning adventure had more in store for us, in spring flora and fauna appearances. Up in the forest canopy we could hear crows assembling and calling. And looking up in their direction, where some were settling on the trees, nearby there was a barred owl in residence. We hear the  owls on occasion, but haven't actually seen them for quite awhile. But there was a fellow, looking down at us. We returned the compliment, then moved on.

 

Approaching the forest creek, preparing to mount one of the bridges, we looked for the presence of the Mallards, and found them too in residence. Mrs. Mallard, as usual, busy eating algae, with her mate paddling next to her. They too were making the most of a beautiful day. And nor were they the only ones for not far from their aquatic picnic lunch, we saw a flash of black-and-white and realized that a Hairy woodpecker had entered the scene, busying itself on a tree trunk, perusing it up and down for the best vantage point it could domineer for its lunch.

 

That universal malady of spring fever is when we get a little giddy as nature moves us further away from winter and closer to spring, tempting us with premature expectations of summer's arrival. And then we become somewhat complacent when a series of beautiful sunny and warm days please us so mightily that we're certain the corner has been turned with finality and cold days are behind us for another year.

 

The gardener's mind turns to solutions to garden problems. When the blue and the pink hydrangeas fail to bloom, while the Annabelle hydrangeas thrive, blooming madly and replicating, the solution might be coffee grounds, so begin accumulating them to sprinkle over the recalcitrant roots and see what happens. Discover that even home remedies occasionally have their place. For the present, admire and cherish the earliest of the garden blooms, like the tiny starry-blue scilla, and next will come the grape hyacinths. There's new life on the roses, the lilies are shooting up, and so are the irises.

 

 

Yesterday's high wind and cold temperatures left our taste buds clamouring for body-warming comfort food for dinner. Out came the bread dough I'd prepared on Friday, to be formed into whole-wheat croissants to accompany a herb-savoury vegetable soup. There's nothing quite like luxuriating at the dinner table over warm bread and a hot and hearty soup to instill a sense of 'all's right with the world' sense, despite the startling news emanating from other parts of the world informing us that elsewhere the world is roiled by hostile threats. 

 

But nature reserves the divine right to change her mind. And suddenly the balmy days are gone, exchanged for what we were just celebrating having been banished. It's cold again, with miserably aggressive winds and unending rain. This morning there were patches of blue sky, soon inundated by rainclouds. But in that brief interval, sun eclipsed by clouds but rain holding off, we dropped everything and dashed out to the ravine for an earlier iteration of our daily woodland circuit.

 

 

We noticed that the bright red florets of maples have begun detaching and falling to the forest floor. Like the brighter plumage of male birds, it's these red florets representing the male pollen of Red Maple trees. Another of nature's rites of passage and vegetation fertilization. We also saw that the patch of Partridgeberry ground cover has finally emerged from its blanket of desiccated fall foliage, surprisingly still bearing their bright red fall berries.

 

 

Understandably, the forest floor was well and truly drenched from incessant rain events. On the ridge of the ravine in particular standing rainwater has created a pot-holed morass of muck which Jillie quite daintily skirts whenever possible, while Jackie for the most part just trudges through unless he's following as we duck through the woods on alternate options to avoid the mud.

 

 

We come across just one friend of our pups, eager to advertise his presence in the expectation that there will be rewards for being a beautiful boy with good manners, and  he is not disappointed. When conditions are wet and cold in the forest many residents in the wider community tend to put off their otherwise-frequent forays into the woods; committed woodland hikers accustom themselves to occasionally inconveniences in the greater interests of the benefits that accompany these ventures.

 

The woods are always a place of serene contemplation, a destination promising a relaxed physical jaunt, and the frequent revelations of some of nature's casual secrets meant to be enjoyed and appreciated.

 

 

 

 

After complaining incessantly about the cold, the rain and the misery both bring when they're non-stop, of several weeks back, we're being lavished with warm, sunny and dry weather. Nothing to complain about. Whatever will we do to compensate? Well, in praise of spring, the admission that it's finally arrived and is here to stay until she passes the torch of warmth and sun over to summer.

 

We're enjoying warm and sunny days and when nightfall arrives, it becomes once again cool and dark, but no rain as yet. We decided in a tip of the teapot to this transition period, to have cream of broccoli soup for dinner last night accompanied by whole-wheat-cheese dinner rolls, and the combination was just perfect alongside raspberries served in yoghurt.

 

Jackie and Jillie deeply appreciate this change as well. They've been asking repeatedly for us to open the sliding breakfast doors leading to the deck. I'm inclined at times not to 'notice' them when I get fed up with being a doorman, but Irving never fails to notice and obligingly slides back the door for them. No one does that for us. Our old screen doors presented no problem to Button and Riley; it moved so easily back and forth they always opened it themselves with their tiny snouts. And then forgot to reverse them to close.

 

So, it's warm and it's bright and it's breezy, and our puppies' expectation that the day holds a pleasant romp through the forest with them cannot possibly go unnoticed. And out we went. No more wet, muddy trails. Everything is completely dry. And so no more little rubber boots for Jackie and Jillie. They won't adorn their tiny feet again until next winter.

 

Every time we enter the forest there are changes to be noted. The thimbleberry shrubs which abound in the ravined forest as leafing out, following after the raspberry canes. Wild strawberries are much less in evidence. We saw for the first time today, the presence of increasingly rare red Baneberry. Jackie and Jillie met up with some of their friends and enjoyed brief little sniffs with them. 

 

Back home again we did a cursory little exploration of the garden. The Saxifrage plants are beginning their bloom, and the bleeding hearts look gracefully beautiful. The snakehead fritillery is still showing off nicely, and up the length and breadth of the rock garden, periwinkle is in bloom, interrupted in one place by the presence of a pasque flower that unfailingly presents itself around Easter.

 

The backyard Magnolia tree has opened its blooms, just a week or two behind its much larger relative at the front of the house. This is an exciting time of year for those who take stock of nature's evolving weather scene. And, of course, for gardeners, impatient to see the return of their stalwart, reliable perennials and avidly planning for their annual flower beds.