Little wonder we yearn for the arrival of spring and celebrate the final departure of winter. We appreciate the winter sun when it's cold out, lighting up the atmosphere and doing what it can to warm our upturned faces. But it's the spring sun, its awakening of all that has been hidden, bidding growing things to emerge and return to life that we miss. And now that it has returned and we can feel its warmth on our heads, our backs, our hands, we understand how deeply its absence has affected us.

 

 

The enthusiasm we feel now, sudden urges to be in the outdoors accompany surges of energy. Not too difficult to understand how many people can feel 'reborn' with the return of accommodating weather. I think in quiet moments, before sleep overtakes me what next I plan to do in the garden. And when I awake, those plans nudge me to take the action I'd been planning.

 

 

Just little things, one thing at a time, bringing forward the gardening calendar. Every day we discover    little  surprises; something has presented itself out of the warming garden soil. Other vegetation that had already begun to show itself matures. I haven't yet planted the two 'dormant' stock roses I bought last week. And today, when we were doing the food shopping, I acquired yet another shrub, so there are three awaiting planting.

 

I plan that for tomorrow. This morning I dug out an old ground shrub rose that had been faithful for many years, but last year it struggled and overwinter it died. In its place will go the third shrub. Another ground shrub (carpet rose) is meant for the very front garden, and halfway between another shrub rose.

I took the hoe out today and tidied up the beds and borders. It really does make a difference. And took an inventory of what's up and what's beginning and what hasn't yet appeared. One of our oldest clematis vines has already vigorously sprouted, but as yet none of the others, both in the backyard and in the gardens hard up against the house. 

 

The peonies have all started to emerge, including the two tree peonies. They're all elderly residents of the garden, and never fail to produce spectacular blooms. The green shoots of lilies are everywhere. Hydrangea canes are beginning to bud. The two little weeping flowering pea trees are sending up their green shoots, but not yet the mulberries.

We took ourselves out to the ravine to wander about the trails with Jackie and Jillie. The trails are almost all now dry. Trees and shrubs sparkling with new foliage, tender and green. We're now seeing false Solomon's Seal beginning to unfurl. It's a truly exciting time to witness emerging vegetation. The woodland violets, pale yellow and mauve, are blooming.

 

Although we're expecting temperatures to sink close to the frost line tonight, we're also anticipating days that will measure in the 20s and more following tonight's frost warning. And those warming days will propel us to the garden nurseries we have depended on for their wonderful annual flowering stock to plan on our summer gardens. We'll do that at some point this week. 

 

Today turned out one of those perfect early spring days. Not quite like the succession of four days that surprised us several weeks ago when we were suddenly plunged into what felt incredibly like summer, but the kind of day in early spring that is so perfect (and typical for this region at this time of year) it calls out to be enjoyed in the most natural of settings. And for us and for other people living in the wider community through which this forested ravine runs, we have access to the most natural of settings.

 

 

A mostly sunny day, despite that the forecast called for afternoon showers and evening thunderstorms. The sun so bright it pierces through every nook and cranny, both out-of-doors and indoors. And with a temperature that lifted itself to a pleasant 22C. Oh, and a storm-tossed wind that blew incessantly but was in fact pleasant, given the mild temperature.

 

 

Today turned out, in fact, to be a day of discovery. Apart from the fact that for a change the allure of the forest and the intersection of the weather brought out a relatively large number of people to enjoy the atmosphere and the landscape. We happened to bump into a new neighbour out with his rambunctious year-old dog. When I asked after his wife, he told us, beaming, that they now have a week-old little girl.

 

 

There were ravine acquaintances we haven't seen in a while, all out with their dogs loping through the trails, everyone feeling comfortable and appreciative of the rapidly drying trails, after last night's rain event. We decided we would take an extra-long circuit, mostly because it was so lovely out, but also because we were curious about some areas of the forest where we know the first spring flowers will be emerging. Not exactly discounting the Coltsfoot, but they're old news by now.

 

 

On the way, Irving was gently confronted by a bevy of dogs, old friends who are very aware that he is a walking cookie dispenser, and who position themselves patiently beside him, awaiting the inevitable offer: 'Cookie?' They affirm that to be their goal and Irving is happy to oblige. And so are our own pups, awaiting their 'fair' turn. There were so many of these serendipitous little gatherings it was a miracle Irving had stocked up enough to go around.

 

And then came the discoveries. First, that the maple trees had begun dropping the bright crimson florets that precede the production of foliage. The tiny red florets are now beginning to litter the forest floor under the fine old maples amidst the forest deciduous trees. In a sense, although the florets flourish brightly in the canopy of maples they can be considered among the first of the spring flowers.

 

Then as we accessed one of the furthest trails we round on a lengthy circuit, we could see an old familiar colony of trout lilies emerging. They're not found everywhere in the forest, and in this particular area they have spread and taken over the early spring forest floor. They're taking advantage of the early spring sun able to penetrate the still-unleafed forest canopy. In another week or two they will begin to send up their delicate little golden-headed blooms.

 

And then, further on, in an area that always hosts trilliums, we were surprised to see the plants already emerged. We had seen nothing of either trilliums or trout lilies mere days earlier. The irresistible combination of milder temperatures and brilliant sun represents the perfect formula these early spring-flowering woodland plants respond to. Although the buds of the flowers are there, dangling above the tri-leafed plant, they too are not yet open, but will be shortly.

 

After two cancellations and related re-scheduling, Irving finally had his appointment this morning with the Motor Vehicle Licensing Bureau for drivers over 80 years of age. The test is always the same; an peripheral eye test, and a simple test to identify people with Alzheimer's. Irving can't get over some of the people present, some 21 in total, applying for license renewal, plus the one person from the  Bureau administering the tests and verifying the results. He seated himself beside a woman who studiously avoided looking at him.

Irving tends to be open and friendly; making small talk with strangers is one of his fortes. It's an environment where elderly people involuntarily get together because there are regulations they must satisfy to ensure it's safe for them to be on the road driving a vehicle. People tend to be understandably passionate about driving; for most it's something they've done most of their lives, it's a necessity for most people, and to have it withdrawn because of age-associated issues means a loss of independence for so many. Worse, it shakes their sense of self.

It's where people who are infirm with the toll that years has taken on their ability to get around with a measure of ease must prove to a regulating agency that they are alert enough, have the physical dexterity and the mental capacity to drive safely, and this makes them anxiety-ridden. It's surprising on the other hand to see the condition that some people are in physically, barely able to shuffle from one end of a room to the other, but still driving. 

While he was away I was busy washing winter garments. I had loaded the washing machine to begin the first laundry of winter jackets and the washing machine refused to cooperate. We bought a washier and dryer Whirlpool set about four years ago. When I pushed the start button, on it came and a second later the signal lights went off. I tried all manner of interventions to try to see whether I could get the machine going. We're still waiting for the repair part for our even newer Whirlpool dishwasher, so this was a rather inconvenient occurrence. I can do without the dishwasher, not the laundry machines.

I unplugged it, waited awhile, plugged it back in. Tried different settings, and the same thing occurred; an initial response, then it went dead. Door properly closed? Check. Dispenser properly filled? Check. Washer too full? Nope. Eventually, Irving returned home. He went downstairs to see if something had gone wrong with the fuse box. Nope. Then he turned the washer dial to cold cycle and it stayed on. I never use the cold cycle, but I leaped to use it this time. All my efforts had been in vain, his somehow convinced the washer to cooperate.

Today is yet another superb spring day, the third in a row of 18C, light wind and sun. Most of the snow in the backyard has now receded. Some tulip foliage is beginning to emerge, as are the lilies. There are some catkins hanging from the Corkscrew Hazel. The Magnolia tree's flower buds, in evidence throughout the winter, are beginning to enlarge. I'm eager to get out and do some gardening. Not yet, but soon.

Off we went to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie who were pleading with us to get out for our afternoon hike through the forest. They wouldn't even need those light jerseys we put on them if it weren't for the stubborn snowpack remaining in the ravine. At street level the atmosphere is benign and warm. Down in the ravine there are icy currents rising from the snow hugging the ground. Tomorrow will likely continue this warm spell, and more snow will melt. 

 

The sap has begun running in the trees, and for producers of maple syrup the season is upon them. We're beginning to see buds emerge on some of the trees and shrubs in the forest, although it will be many weeks yet before a light haze of green will begin to appear. But we're finally on our way to spring, and I keep planning the gardens in sweet anticipation of mid- to end-of-May when night frosts are unlikely to damage tender new plants.

 

 

Yesterday may have been a literal washout for our usual hike through the ravine, given the cool 2.5C and steady rain and wind that marked the day, but the day wasn't a write-off. Among other things, we all opted for pizza. And all of us worked in the kitchen together seamlessly to produce the pizzas. Two; one that Irving and I would share, and one that Jordan put his own preferred toppings on, though for the most part we all shared a choice of toppings. His had olives, apart from the anchovies, and ours no olives, but some pepperoni.

 

 

Later in the evening while Irving watched his favourite pot boilers on his computer, Jody and I played Pictionary. He happens to have skills that were denied me at birth. Inheriting his father's casual capability to draw with ease and precision. My drawings are pathetically nominal. Yet, despite that, he is usually able to negotiate the hints my sad little drawings are meant to convey to quickly come up with correct answers.

 

Where I somehow gained the advantage was my random dice tosses. For some inexplicable reason (twist of the wrist?) I rolled higher numbers consistently than he did, and managed to gain the ascendancy on the board with my piece's steady advance. Each game takes roughly an hour to complete. What's so much fun about playing this particular board game is the fancy-tickling it produces and the laughs galore.

 

 

Today brought us another day of gloomy overcast. But there's nothing gloomy about the calendar position of the day; we hit the Vernal Equinox and rain and wind aside, it's officially spring! A matter of fact that did indeed put a spring in our steps ... one of anticipation. When the rain paused, out we went to the ravine, all of us in rain gear. The weather offered us trail conditions that ranged from icy to deep plunges into the melting snowpack.

 

Expending plenty of energy in the process of moving from one point to another. And so, it was little wonder that we had those trails to ourselves. Very few other people had ventured out on this first day of spring, more intent on avoiding the ice and the slogging mess than celebrating spring with the effort it took to avoid slipping and falling into a morass of snowmelt.

 

 

Snow has been steadily melting, running off the hillsides into the creek below. There are actually some areas now where snow is gone in a patchwork of dark soil finally poking through winter's snow blanket. When we returned from our delightful slog through the forest, the sun had shoved aside the dark clouds long enough to brighten the house interior, just to assure us that yes, it really is prepared to welcome spring's arrival in style. Tomorrow.