Even for the Ottawa Valley's notoriously quirky weather presentations this is highly unusual. Perhaps it's nature's way of mourning along with us, our loss exactly two years ago, of our cherished little miniature poodle, Button.

This day began brightly enough, with relatively mild temperature and clear skies, the sun shining brightly down on the now-scant snow and ice left on front lawns, despite last night's booming series of thunderstorms, and heavy rain. The sun remained bright in the sky for the duration of the morning, as the temperature slowly rose, and the winds rose with them. Wind, ferocious enough to bring trees to their knees, and mimic a locomotive.

And warmth one normally associates with summer, a benevolent warmth that appeared quite at odds with the weather warning for tomorrow. After I had finished cleaning the house, we set out on our ravine walk. By then the sun had long gone, the sky had acquired a dense layer of white and grey clouds; a complete cover, the sun unable to even wink at us. But it was incredibly balmy, at 25 degrees centigrade. We did have the cautionary sense to take along rain jackets for all three of us, little Riley's tucked into a pocket.

The warm atmosphere, the intense rain events of last night and the wind has helped melt some of the snow in the ravine, but nowhere near the bulk of it. Some portions of trails have become bare of snow and ice and are grittily muddy. Most of the long slopes are more icy than ever, and without our cleats we'd never have been able to climb them.

We stopped to chat on a few occasions with people we know as ravine acquaintances walking their dogs, just as delighted as we were to be out and about. There were a few sprinkles, and one light rain that lasted a very short time. An hour and a half later we exited, well exercised.

And not ten minutes after we arrived home the heavens opened up to a lavishly heavy downpour. I watched as a little red squirrel took shelter under the porch roof and handy to the seed-and-peanut tray, and a cardinal kept fluffing his wings, seated within one of the ornamental miniature crab trees beside the porch.

Oh, it was quite the amazing weather day, up to an unimaginable 25 degrees with wind, sun and rain all thrown in for good measure. And oh yes, we're cautioned by Environment Canada not to become too accustomed to this warmth; tomorrow's daytime temperature will descend once again to minus-2-degrees, and there will be snow, sleet and freezing rain.

The last few days we've had temperatures soar into the double digits; low double digits but a world of difference from hovering on freezing, and we're grateful. All the more so when those days are accompanied by sun, and even rain, since it all helps our mounds and mountains of snow gradually melt. Gradually is the operative word here; there is so much snow if it melted swiftly we would be facing the risk of flooding.

As it is we've been warned by Environment Canada that the next few days we can expect quite a lot of rain, enough rain to guarantee floods will most certainly be an occurrence in some spring flood-prone areas of the province and this city. For the meanwhile, we're incredulous as it is at the pace of snow-melt.

The creek in our ravine is rushing madly with muddy water, and in places loudly exclaiming waterfalls have developed as the run-off makes its way over fallen trees and branches that have established themselves along the creek runway. Partly due to the hard work of the beavers that had been very much in evidence a few years back, but which were trapped and taken elsewhere to munch on poplars.

This morning we woke to a dark, dismal day of rain, and it was clear it had rained copiously overnight. Despite which, there was the exquisite song of a cardinal, and another of a song sparrow to sweeten the day. We dressed for rain when we ventured into the ravine, but despite the lowering grey clouds, none more transpired throughout our walk. In the ravine, crows are mobbing, the usual spring-time activity.

There are now areas of the forest floor that have managed to shed their snowpack, and it's amazing to seen the green underneath, with ferns and wild strawberries ready to refresh toward spring. Amazingly, we saw some sun come out briefly, before the clouds gathered once again to blot it from view.

Canada is well recognized as a country of immigrants. It is also recognized for the number of new immigrants who are welcomed into the country every year, numbers far outdistancing those taken in by other countries. Canada was built on an inflow of immigrants. Originally from Britain and the countries of Western Europe. At one time it was rare to see visible minorities.

How things have changed; now everywhere one looks people are readily identified by their physical characteristics, skin and hair colour and cultural or religious clothing, and the babel of exotic languages can be heard everywhere, embroidering English and French, in this officially bilingual country. The two 'founding nations' are still represented as the majority, but those who have migrated from elsewhere on the globe have changed the face of the country beyond measure.

There are over a quarter-million emigrants from abroad welcomed into Canada as new permanent residents, many soon on their way to achieving citizenship each and every year. Canada's open doors, easy accessibility, and assistance to settling and integrating into a new environment through government and private-enterprise auspices help guide new immigrants. In comparison to other countries increasing their population numbers through immigration, Canada is well recognized as a destination of choice for people from around the world. Canada's major cities as well as distant towns and villages no longer resemble the monoculture ethnicity they once did.

And increasingly, I see evidence of this not only in the most obvious fact that people of yellow, brown and black hue now intermingle comfortably in this pluralist society everywhere one looks, but on supermarket shelves. At first it was organically grown basic foodstuffs being presented on grocery shelves as alternate choices. Now, an increasingly large presentation of what to Canadian tastes can only be described as "exotic" foods are available not just in specialty shops dedicated to the clusters of immigrants that have newly arrived over the decades but on ordinary supermarket shelves.

Strange appearing fruit one had no idea even existed, much less how they are to be prepared for the table. Although, for those interested, the Internet swiftly solves that little problem. And vegetables whose provenance, names and identifying features, much less preparation, is completely beyond the ken of yesterday's Canadians. Yesterday, in the food store where I regularly shop, I asked an elderly Caribbean-Canadian how to prepare breadfruit, a staple I'd read about that existed in many countries, but had never before seen.

Our little dogs were always sun worshippers. They followed the sun. In the morning, in this house of ours, the sun illuminates the front of the house. And then for a time, it disappears, as far as they are concerned, to eventually reappear in the afternoon, at the back of the house.

They always began the day lolling and basking comfortably in the dining room where the sun shines through the floor to ceiling windows, enjoying its warmth and whatever healing properties it offered them, until it gradually waned and finally went. At which point they would disconsolately wander from front to back of the house, seeking those elusive sunrays. They would finally settle down in disgust at its absence, to nap without its warmth on their little hides.

But come afternoon and the sun shone full through the patio doors, there they were, lapping it up. In the summer months they sought to escape the searing heat, and during the hot months they preferred to evade the sun and seek shade instead.  Now that spring is truly upon us finally, even though the air remains crisp and cold yet, and the wind insistently brisk, Riley agitates to go out on the deck, to enjoy the feel of the sun.

He's the kind of little dog who detests winter, and the brittle cold it imposes upon us all, the discomfort and the misery of coping, trying to stay warm. His walks through the ravine with us daily in all seasons ensure he's kept mobile and that all his body parts remain well lubricated with activity at least during those times, otherwise at age 13 he's more inclined to just lethargically enjoy a life of leisure.

At the present time however, the attraction of the sun pulls at him, despite the exterior cold, and he continually asks to be allowed to sit out on the deck, ambient temperature be damned. So we accommodate him, putting out one of his little beds, covering him with a blanket, and he enjoys listening to the outside sounds once again, feeling the wind on the top of his head, and the sun seeping through his wind-protective coverings, to warm his little heart.

The diversity and complexity of human nature makes it a certainty that life in general is never boring, at least impersonally reading about the choices that people make. The timid and uncertain do not usually look for answers to life's puzzles. Nor do they tend to seek adventure to challenge their capacity to fend for themselves. It is from among the boldly assertive, the confident and the adventurous that surely human advances have been made in discoveries benefiting humankind, in their quest for answers to the puzzles of existence.

That said, it is from among the pool of the curious and the adventurous that an intrinsic drive to self-destruction also exists. A desire to push the bounds of endurance against all that nature has in her quiver of swift-as-an-arrow surprises of adversity. Benevolent at times, terrorizing at others.

Which doesn't stop a breed of teens so convinced of their exceptionalist ability to fend for themselves under all circumstances, that they will insist, for example, on setting out solo on an ocean voyage. Their drive is explicable to a degree, since the young are impetuous by nature and don't tend to think beyond their dreams to the consequences that might accrue.

Laura Dekker poses for the media on her boat Guppy in Den Osse, south-west Netherlands, Tuesday. A Dutch court has cleared the way for 14-year-old Laura Dekker to set sail on a risky solo voyage around the world.

Evert-Jan Daniels/AP

It is the tender acquiescence of parents so bedazzled by their offspring they permit them to challenge fate, that is perhaps less understandable. But then, it is parents agreeing to what their children wish to accomplish; parents who have confidence in their children's rare abilities to persevere and preserve their lives while accomplishing a goal of rare achievement.

What can we say of parents who decide, with their infants in tow, to risk life by embarking on a sea voyage, trusting to Dame Fortune smiling upon them to see them and their dependents through an adventure the parents seek and the children have no say in going along with?

The disabled sailboat Rebel Heart drifts hundreds of miles off Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. An effort to help a sick baby aboard includes the Air National Guard, Coast Guard and Navy. (California Air National Guard / April 5, 2014)

Take two young parents, Charlotte and Eric Kaufman and their sailboat, who set out on a two-week voyage around the world. Circumnavigating the world in two weeks? Their 11-metre sailboat lost steering and communications functionality 1,450 kilometres southwest of Cabo San Lucas Mexico

Sariah English/The Associated Press -- Eric and Charlotte Kaufman, shown pre-voyage, with Lyra 1, and Cora, 3

Their one-year-old child was ill with a fever and body-covering rash, unresponsive to medication. Their three-year-old, presumably was well, merely in danger along with her sibling and two world-travelling parents.

AP Photo/Sariah English

This undated image shows Eric and Charlotte Kaufman with their daughters, Lyra, 1, and Cora, 3.

- See more at: http://www.northjersey.com/news/navy-rescues-family-with-sick-baby-from-sailboat-off-mexican-coast-1.842709#sthash.cvMyAGL2.dpuf

In another age they wouldn't have been capable of sending out a satellite plea for rescue, but in this instance they were able to, and four California Air National Guard parachuted into the water to reach them, stabilize the infant until the navy frigate the USS Vandegrift reached them early Sunday. The sailboard, "Rebel Heart" was in the process of sinking.

Should these parents be charged for the rescue cost, and charged with endangering the lives of vulnerably dependent children?

Why, not at all! Charlotte's sister, Sariah Kay English was skeptical at first: "I thought it was nuts", but she came around, remarking the couple was always careful. "They were not going into this blind. I knew they were doing this wisely", she said, sagely herself.

Before the family left for the trip, Lyra had salmonella poisoning, but doctors cleared her to travel after she was healthy again, said Charlotte Kaufman's sister, Sariah Kay English.
When her sister first mentioned plans to sail with two young children, English recalled, "I thought it was nuts."
But English said the couple was always careful. Eric Kaufman is a Coast Guard-licensed captain who introduced sailing to Charlotte Kaufman during one of their early dates.
"They were not going into this blind. I knew they were doing this wisely," English said.
- See more at: http://www.northjersey.com/news/navy-rescues-family-with-sick-baby-from-sailboat-off-mexican-coast-1.842709#sthash.cvMyAGL2.dpuf

Before the family left for the trip, Lyra had salmonella poisoning, but doctors cleared her to travel after she was healthy again, said Charlotte Kaufman's sister, Sariah Kay English.
When her sister first mentioned plans to sail with two young children, English recalled, "I thought it was nuts."
But English said the couple was always careful. Eric Kaufman is a Coast Guard-licensed captain who introduced sailing to Charlotte Kaufman during one of their early dates.
"They were not going into this blind. I knew they were doing this wisely," English said.
- See more at: http://www.northjersey.com/news/navy-rescues-family-with-sick-baby-from-sailboat-off-mexican-coast-1.842709#sthash.cvMyAGL2.dpuf

Before the family left for the trip, Lyra had salmonella poisoning, but doctors cleared her to travel after she was healthy again, said Charlotte Kaufman's sister, Sariah Kay English.
When her sister first mentioned plans to sail with two young children, English recalled, "I thought it was nuts."
But English said the couple was always careful. Eric Kaufman is a Coast Guard-licensed captain who introduced sailing to Charlotte Kaufman during one of their early dates.
"They were not going into this blind. I knew they were doing this wisely," English said.
- See more at: http://www.northjersey.com/news/navy-rescues-family-with-sick-baby-from-sailboat-off-mexican-coast-1.842709#sthash.cvMyAGL2.dpuf

Pauline Marois just couldn't resist the temptation to go for broke, and transform her government from a minority to a majority administration. The irresistible urge to do so, wrapped tightly in her ambition to remove the province of Quebec from Confederation. With a noted majority of the francophone population of the province supportive of her proposed 'charter of values' -- where all civil servants who insisted on their human right to freedom of religion by wearing visible symbols of their religion while at work, would be fired unless they complied -- she felt certain of electoral victory for a renewed majority government and called a general election after a mere year and a half in power.

She lost her own seat in the voting process, and if that isn't an ignominious defeat, a final repudiation of hers and her party's separation agenda for the province, what is?

One of the leading student union personalities who helped lead an illegal, sometimes-violent protest against the prospect of a raise in university tuition fees which still would have left Quebec students paying significantly less than their peers elsewhere in the country joined the Parti Quebecois in the last election, attracted to the prospect of separation. He too lost his seat.

Another PQ candidate, a professor of sociology no less, at a Quebec university who subscribed publicly to the KKK-inspired slanderous charge that Jews and Muslims acquired funding through taxation of kosher and halal foods to further the political agenda of Zionism on the one hand and jihad on the other, lost her bid for election.

While Pierre Karl Peladeau, Quebec's media mogul who announced his intent to work toward secession, moving from cut-throat business leader to 'principle'-motivated politician, won a seat with the much-diminished Parti Quebecois.

But the leader of the province's Liberal Party, a federalist and advocate for functional and social bilingualism in a fervently unilingual province, ran a dogged campaign stressing the priorities for Quebec of increasing employment levels and coping with the staggering debt and deficit, along with the need for social harmony and inclusiveness, and it was his sane and sober platform clashing with the odiously divisive one of the Parti Quebecois that brought the Pequistes to their knees, and returned the Liberals to power.

Now it will be his priority to steer his Liberal government away from the traditional practices of corrupt alliances between government at every level in the province and industry and to temper the influence of its aggressive unions, while proffering much-needed overtures of reconciliation between the other provinces in the country we all share and cherish.

We were late into the ravine yesterday afternoon, after I'd done the usual Monday house-cleaning. But it was mild, though overcast and we saw others out a modest assortment of dogs walking their people. Lugubrious Charlie was out and about with her person, always happy despite her sad appearing face, to see people she is familiar with, and appreciative of a good ear rub.

Today, however, we set out in drizzle earlier than yesterday, wearing rain gear to venture into a colder day, where the snow underfoot couldn't make up its mind to revert to ice or remain slush. Making it difficult to get about, challenging both for the slippery effect and the fact that far more energy is required to plod ahead.

The snowpack is gradually melting. There is so much of it, and it is yet so deep that it seems, looking at it in an assessing manner wherever we turn our gaze, that surely it will take forever before we see green dominating the landscape again.

It is in weather that turns from winter into spring, when the air is still crisp and the sun shines that a sharp eye can see snowfleas (springtails) leaping about on the snow surface. In our younger days when my eyesight was not yet compromised I could see them clearly enough. I remember years ago describing them to an acquaintance, baffled by his disbelief that any such creatures even existed. I had the experience of seeing them, but he denied their existence.

Even little Riley was dressed for the rain and plodded along with us. This is when the pristine snow becomes detritus-laden and impressively unattractive, as it shrinks in volume to betray the sight of all the litter that it has acquired over the winter months.

The creek and its far-flung tributaries, all swollen with the runoff; in places tea-coloured, but mostly muddy appearing has also been transformed. You can smell the 'mud', and at other times the odour of swamp gas makes itself known in the rushing, swirling water headed toward the Ottawa River.

A week ago we heard a raven from somewhere deep in the ravine; heard it but weren't able to locate it. The cardinals have taken on their spring song, inexpressibly exquisite, vying with the robins for the championship of ebullient exuberance of natural musical expression.

In the woods, there are immature copses of beech and ironwood that stubbornly insisted on retaining their foliage, though they have turned crisply transparent. At times they seem the only colour relief in an otherwise monochromatic landscape.