I  had originally planted a few snake's head fritillary bulbs in the rock garden running along one side of the house on our semi-'ravine' lot. Called that though it's just a slight downward angle from the front to the back of our house lot. They have bloomed faithfully ever since and that's decades. Last year to my astonishment, I discovered a snake's head flourishing beside a bed of lillies quite distant from the original bulb placements. And now, suddenly, it's begun to bloom, while those in the rock garden haven't yet set a flower head.

The garden scilla are happily in bloom, in little colonies both in the back garden and at the front of the house, little bright blue sprays of delicate flowers that come out before the grape hyacinths which were planted about the same era. The scilla are later plantings, but earlier bloomers at a time when the garden is badly in need of a visual reminder that is, after all, a garden.

This has been another superb spring day. A trifle cooler than the last two days, but that's on the verge of correction with the rest of the week projected to be closer to 20C, than today's 13C, and it will be welcome. But the sun couldn't be faulted for doing it's best to warm the atmosphere. And much of the forest is still open to the sun, although foliage is leafing out at an amazing pace. A week ago there was the occasional faint haze of green. Today the haze has developed to swiftly maturing leaves through the masts of the forest canopy's deciduous trees.

I hadn't been expecting to see violets yet in bloom,but Irving pointed out, by the trail, a delicate little cluster of violets and one tiny mauve bloom, awaiting company of its sister-blooms. Jackie and Jillie find ample cause to keep their little snouts to the ground, but flowering violets are of little interest to them. Mind, if fru
it-bearing plants like early-to-fruit wild strawberries at nose level met them, they'd hastily accommodate their presence by eating them.

It was such a superb day, we thought we'd venture a little further off the beaten track as it were, this afternoon. And Jackie and Jillie are always pleased when we're off somewhere they're not entirely familiar with. There's an access bridge to the area we meant to visit. Jackie and Jillie have been there before; in our daily trysts with the forest; they've been in this out-of-their-memory-familiarity at least a half-dozen times. But it's that unfamiliarity that enlivens them.

It is as though they're on an expeditionary course of discovery. They run ahead, they double back. And when we arrive at the little bridge fording an auxiliary of the main creek, they stop. Jackie sniffs it suspiciously, something he never does with the other bridges on approaching them. But he follows me trustingly and we're over it. It's an older bridge with the floorboards further apart, and perhaps their little paws have a tendency to stick or seem to fall through and this unnerves them.

Jillie stops altogether, unwilling to trust her little body to the unfamiliar and to her, obviously threatening. Irving picks her up and carries her across and she's ready to romp. And romp they do, as we climb another hill to the level of a part of the ravine we were closely familiar with many years ago. It has a parklike atmosphere, where a pollinating garden was established in the interim, because at that level there was a street of houses built decades ago when we stopped accessing the area.

But beyond it is the forest again with its familiar trails, some of which, perched on hillsides, have since collapsed into the ravine. There was a time when we ventured long and far on the network of trails, much more so than we now do. When we're there I always like to visit with a majestic old pine that I think of as the grandfather of all pines in this forest. It's huge, its heavy boughs testament to the fact that years ago it had room to sprawl. Its tendency to send out arms instead of growing straight upward explains its presence to this day.

In the sense that when the forest was still a virgin forest and under logging, the pine was ignored while other, tall and straight-growing pines were forested as perfect specimens to be used for Britain's sailing fleet. Now it is huge and looks over a dominion of smaller pines, fir, cedars, spruce and hemlock. But it is the largest of them all.

Irving has been looking for a replacement kitchen-faucet set for a while. The last set he installed about seven years ago was the worst we've ever had. Nothing was right about it. The previous set had lasted about a dozen years, a premium tap set guaranteed for 'life'. It had a built-in water purifier, was pretty pricey and we had a hell of a time securing replacement filters. The one that replaced it when it finally gave up the ghost is the one we currently have on the sink.

It's so poorly operational that finding just the right spot between hot and cold is well nigh impossible. You get either cold or hot; adjustments in between are beyond difficult to switch to. The top handle also keeps coming loose and we're afraid that one day it'll just fly off. Irving tightens the damn thing and it's fine, but it only lasts for a week and then it's sliding all over the place again. Moving the faucet head from one sink to the other in a double-sink duo, is a labour unto itself.

So he did some shopping this morning and came home with a new set. Half price sale (I shudder at those half-price sales; does it mean the product is so dismal they're trying to rid themselves of stock?) reduced the cost to $150. A product by a well-known manufacturer. I asked him to see about getting a plumber to install it; I don't relish the thought of him struggling under the sink to install the damn thing, but no, he'll do the work himself as he always does.

Good thing it's a beautiful day of steadily warming temperatures, light breezes and an ocean of blue. That golden orb rules the sky today casting its brilliance and warmth throughout our landscape. As usual I was out with Jackie and Jillie in the backyard to do an inventory check on what's coming up in the gardens. Kind of silly to do this every day, but every day has its own rewards.

Earlier in the day, another fencing company representative had been by, with our neighbour guiding him around, to estimate the work involved and the eventual cost of replacement of our 30-year-old fencing. It'll be a difficult proposition, even though our backyard is small, unlike that of our neighbour's, easily double the size of ours. Which means there's less room to manoeuvre about.

By the time we got around to convincing Jackie and Jillie that yes, no kidding, we're going off to the ravine, the temperature had reached 16C, and the sun wasn't playing second fiddle to clouds, nor would it for the remainder of the day. So, off we went. Light cotton jackets for us, but the puppies no longer have any need of doggie sweaters, it's just so dog-amenable, is this spring weather...

All creatures large and small are beside themselves with the pleasure of spring. There were chipping sparrows flitting about over and around the creek today. We haven't seen them since last summer. And the unmistakable sound of bluejays ringing through the forest, an old familiar musical refrain that we don't come across often in Eastern Ontario, but were very familiar to us years back in Southern Ontario. Their sharp peals advising that they're around were loud and distinct.

As we walked on a lower trail alongside the creek, we strolled into gentle clouds of May flies, swirling around us. Signs of spring are everywhere, from every corner and manifesting through the presence of birds and the occasional sighting of Mourning Cloaks. Before long they'll be joined by Dragonflies and by (shudder) blackflies and mosquitoes. The standing water rain pools on the forest floor refuse to dry up and they're the perfect incubation medium for mosquito larvae.

Today, like almost every other day we've been tramping through the ravine, we came across the emergence of tender ferns, horsetails and False Solomon's Seal, preparing to flesh out the bracken on the forest floor. We also came across the first emerging patch of wild ginger. Also foamflower. Vegetation growing apace!

It's the flowering of Trout lilies and of Trilliums that really please us, for their distinct little colourful flowers. The bright yellow heads of the lilies searching out the sun, and bashfully looking down at the ground, and the startling crimson of the purple trilliums catching the eye we walk by. Mesmerizing in their quiet beauty.

With our good neighbours to our right, whom we've known for the past twenty-five years, we're exploring the cost of replacing our backyard fence. It links to their backyard only on one side, to neighbours behind us who planted a hedge about a decade ago at the back and on the opposite side, to neighbours we've known for over thirty years. We have good relations with the first neighbour and there's no question we split the cost there. The neighbours in back are third owners of their house and unlike their predecessors, have never been friendly.

We won't even mention the fence to them when it's replaced, since their hedge 'separates' us as far as they're concerned. As to the neighbours on the left, he's a social recluse and only if he's forced by unavoidable circumstances to acknowledge the presence of other people will he grudgingly speak to anyone. Our relations with him have deteriorated over the years; he speaks to no one on the street, irrespective of how long they've lived there, and will cross the street rather than speak to someone. No point discussing splitting the cost of the fence with him.

This morning the fence was measured and the fencing company will come back to us and our neighbour on the right with their cost to us for both a wood replacement fence and vinyl fencing. Erected over thirty years ago when the houses were new and so were the fences, it's time to replace them. They're getting pretty rickety and have had to be repaired from time to time the last five years. There will be strangers in the backyard for as long as it takes to erect a new fence after taking down the old one, and Jackie and Jillie will have to get used to it.

It's the perfect time of year to get it done though, since the garden is still pretty much asleep. And that's another thing, an established garden with borders against fences makes for an awkward proposition in fence replacement. There will inevitably be casualties and I shrink at the very idea. But that's life; there are far worse things to consider.

Another beautiful day dawned this morning with full sun, light breeze and an eventual afternoon high temperature of 18C. So of course Jackie and Jillie took us for a prolonged tramp through the woods this afternoon. We couldn't wish for more ideal conditions to cruise along the forest trails, fully appreciating the difference between these spring days and last month's.

Slowly but surely everything is recovering from winter's icy hiatus. Bracken on the forest floor is beginning its tentative but determined break from the leaf mass composting the clay-and-sand soil. We're amazed that wildflowers have taken such a giant leap forward. But of course this is their time to do that, before the leafy canopy of the forest kicks in and their exposure to sun filtering down on the ground ends. 

The red trilliums are now beginning to bloom, bright red and shy. Shy in that the stems will not hold their flower heads erect, instead bowing to the ground, unlike the white trilliums that hold their flower heads erect to the sky. So getting a photograph of the trilliums can be a little tricky, requiring some twisting acrobatics on the part of whoever it is that holds the camera.

The same thing occurs with the trout lilies, also starting to bloom, although there will be many hundreds of the plants that remain sterile of flowers. In wide patches of a thousand plants, only about a hundred of them will actually end up carrying a bloom. And they too point their flowerheads downward, not tilting them toward the sun, even though yellow flowers depend on the presence of sun to open their petals.

So too with the coltsfoot, responsive to the bright light of the sun, otherwise they fold themselves closed. There are entire colonies of the coltsfoot, more than we've ever seen before, all in bloom, sharing a limited space, but spread out luxuriantly, providing an early source of nectar and pollen to insect pollinators.

 

We were preparing ourselves for yet another dismal day of rain, according to the early-morning forecast which outlined rain this morning and showers throughout the afternoon. Nature had other plans, and presumably the weather forecasters are now slightly red-faced, but we're not, we're quite content with the way this day unfolded. The high temperature at 18C, a light breeze and wide, open blue sky, the spring sun practically blistering our eyes. 

First thing after breakfast, Irving called a local optometrist he'd used before. Neither of us has had appointments for any medical procedure or consultation for years. But he felt it was time to have his eyes examined and see if his prescription had changed. As luck had it, they had a cancellation that very day, so he set off for a 12:30 pm appointment. 

During which he was informed that his eyes are quite unlike most of people our age. No problems whatever. His eyesight remains acute, although he did require a new prescription. The optometrist spoke at some length with him and he came away with a new prescription and a very satisfying experience. I guess I'm next up. Unlike Irving, I imagine there may be a suggestion that cataracts may be a problem.

This gorgeous day called out to us, not to tarry any longer, but to get out there into the forest with Jackie and Jillie so they could indulge themselves as only dogs can do, free from physical constraints and let loose in an expansive natural environment. Some of the trails remain mired in muck thanks to the days of successive rain we've had, but the forest enjoys the rain, and it encourages the vegetation to begin advancing toward their summer cycle.

The change from day to day in emerging foliage, as minuscule as it is yet on deciduous trees and shrubs is clearly visible; tiny leaves at leaping toward maturity and more of them appear each time we're exposed to the landscape. Truly, nature is a magician. Each of the numberless tiny leaves looks like a glowing emerald jew sparkling in the sun.

We ambled along at our leisure, in no hurry to extract ourselves from the landscape. The warm serenity of the forest just envelopes us, soothes our minds, relaxes tensions, frees our limbs to easy movement. Birds, many down from the boreal forest, others still migrating in reverse, flit through the trees, singing their light-hearted praises to spring.

The forest understory, just like the trees, beginning to put out new life. Not much activity yet from the forest bracken, other than the occasional fern and the early spring-blooming wildflowers. The busy colonies of trout lilies have not yet put out even one single bloom, but then they're none too generous with their delicate little yellow flowers at any time. More trilliums are emerging and we espied two together that had boldly begun to open their flower buds to reveal the very tip of their crimson petals.

When we arrived back home, we washed up the puppies and they had their afternoon vegetable salad. Then while Irving busied himself downstairs in his workshop for a bit, I decided not to waste the beauty of the day, and took myself outside to cut back the burnt portions of one of our hemlock trees. While I was at it, trimming an overgrown holly and then turning my attention to a large blue spruce whose lower branches were hanging over the edge of the street.

The day was so beautiful it felt absolutely invigorating to be out, working in the garden and I enjoyed every minute of it. The hydrangeas are beginning to bud, so too the roses and the tree peonies as well as some of the clematis vines. Anticipation is quite gripping moving toward late spring and summer.

Where do they come from? I thought I had done a thorough job last year exiling weeds from the lawn, and today found plenty gloating at me from the grass. They're not smirking any more, though. Irving said he was about to launch a search party for me. I had gone out to the backyard with Jackie and Jillie and kind of got lost meandering about our tiny backyard, taking stock of what was coming up; not much in the cultivated plants, but the weeds looked pretty comfortable. 

The ground was in fact, saturated, so not too difficult to yank them up with the help of a weed probe. We'd had rain into the early morning hours before dawn today. When we left to do the grocery shopping things were just drying up. But as we drove the short distance to the supermarket a fine mist of rain began to cover the windshield.

By the time we exited the supermarket with our shopping completed, it became very evident that while we were doing our shopping the sky had opened wholesale. Everything everywhere was absolutely drenched. From the weather forecast we were expecting a balmy day of 18C, with afternoon sun. But then, it was only yet morning, plenty of time for the weather to improve.

We were both struck by the price increases in all manner of food staples. They had already risen weeks ago, and now the stickers had risen even steeper. Expected, but surprising all the same. We think of those for whom stretching a meager income meant just managing a food budget -- before the advent of the pandemic. And now, two years later, with incomes uncertain for many and prices rising, we can just imagine the shock and dismay of those less fortunate than we are. 

We were welcomed fulsomely on our return home by two little dogs who hadn't seen us in at least a year. They didn't look any different to us; it seemed to us we hadn't seen them for an hour or so, but not to hear them tell their story of woeful abandonment. Jackie so upset he wouldn't even take his usual treat. Nothing upsets Jillie to that degree.

In the afternoon we realized that the ten seconds of sun that had appeared while we were having breakfast had been a tease. It was still heavily overcast, and soon after the sun had appeared rain pelted down again. And looked as though it was set to yet again as we prepared to launch ourselves into a forest hike. So, rainjackets for everyone. We were rather taken aback once we left the house to discover just how cool it was at an overcast, humid 12C.

 

Few people about, but we did run into someone unfamiliar to us. And with her was a three-month-old Bernese Mountain puppy whose name was Odie. Odie didn't quite know what to make of vociferous Jackie and Jillie, displaying their usual poor manners on meeting other dogs for the first time. But he was more than willing, even at that tender age, to understand that sometimes perfect strangers will offer little fellows like him cookies. So he took his cookie and settled down to polish it off. Taking his time, luxuriating over it, not gulping it down like J&J.

In some areas of the forest floor there are great pools of stagnant water, just sitting there, perfect habitat for mosquito larvae. Even black flies will get their opportunity to breed and pester us, making use of the creek still roaring from constant rain events and the opening of storm-holding ponds that are allowed to flood through the ravine.

We came across an interesting array of new vegetation making their mark on spring. We had missed our usual hike yesterday because of all-day rain. Where leafing out has begun it is accelerating at a remarkable speed. Wild raspberry canes are now leafing out. We saw several discrete clumps of pulmonaria (lungwort) in bloom, obviously runaways from someone's garden of cultivars, now gone feral, beautifying the forest floor.

And suddenly, partridgeberry has appeared, popping through the leaf mass on the forest floor. Not only that, but lilies of the valley too are now boldly dancing around the trunks of trees, exclaiming their saucy presence.I expect it will take another several weeks and with it, warmer weather before we'll see those shy little dangling flowerheads appear.

Monday, a busy day. House-cleaning. There are so many distractions. Things we'd rather do. That kind of thing. But it all gets done. Not that we mind doing the cleaning. We don't, and tackle the house together. Once I'm finished dusting upstairs, Irving begins the vacuuming, starting upstairs and making his way downstairs while I'm dusting the rooms downstairs. Then dry-mopping the hardwood floors for me, and finally washing the floors.

It's actually all that dusting that takes so long for me to get through. Items we've collected over our 67 years of marriage. Irving is enthralled by art and antiques, and guided by him, I've learned over the years to appreciate them for the beauty, craftsmanship and artistry they represent. It is calming and soothing to be surrounded by beautiful and unique objects.

And Irving is himself a craftsman with a streak of deeply embedded artistry prodding him to produce so many different objects over the years. This house of ours is not only our home, but a long-term project that he engaged himself in for the past thirty years. Transforming it from an interesting architectural edifice to a reflection of his aesthetic taste and artistic capabilities over the years. Although we moved into an open-concept house all those years ago, Irving transformed it so that each room of the house is separated and performs a separate function for us. 

He finishes up long before I do. And because it's been another lovely, warm day he decided to wash his truck. We'll be using the truck to transport us to our vacation destination next month. Gives us a lot more room for all the baggage we invariably take along. And Irving has devised a way to transform the front seats from two buckets to a bench to accommodate Jackie and Jillie sitting with us up front. Like the car it doesn't get washed frequently, but neither was particularly dirty. We haven't been driving much anywhere in the past two years.

We had some morning rain, and it's been threatening rain ever since. In fact, as soon as Irving was finished washing the truck, cleaning the interior, rain began. So there with its arrival went our plans for a ravine hike with Jackie and Jillie. Do they care? Not really. They followed me upstairs as usual once the floors were done and I washed and changed and their usual excited shenanigans began, leaping from bed to loveseat, skidding through the halls, wrestling, boxing with one another. 

As far as they're concerned, everything's fine as long as they're presented with their afternoon vegetable salad. Cutting up bell peppers, cucumber, snow peas and grape tomatoes, the smell of the vegetables drive them to distraction. Jillie nudges up against my calf, while Jackie does his anxious little leaps, lightly touching my back to ensure I'm fully aware that this is a matter of life-and-death.

Since a hike through forest trails is out today, I set about pre-preparing dinner a little early, figuring it can simmer on the stove a few hours. Beef stew, for a change. I just bought a new package of Garam Masala and added it to the onions, garlic and stewing beef I had cut into bite-sized chunks earlier and refrigerated with garlic powder, white wine vinegar and olive oil to marinate for several hours beforehand. Adding carrots and potatoes and tomato paste, they'll make our evening meal along with green beans.

May entered like a pretty damsel stirring a wave of aesthetic appreciation among attendees at a formal-dress ball. No less was expected, truth to tell. May is the testing-ground of a summer to come. And this well-gowned maiden brought with her genteel warmth, a glittering sun and a gentle breeze. Garden-party time approaches. There's a palpable feeling of freedom wafting on that breeze. And the sun has been busy inciting new growth to riotously soak in its warmth and light. 

 Garden take notice -- here we come! Soon. I see you peonies, sneaking your bright red feelers out of the garden soil. And you, hydrangeas, I can see those tender greet shoots on those winterborne branches. Aha. Magnolias, think I haven't noticed those swelling buds?! And you, roses, how're you gonna bloom in June if you haven't bothered yet to poke a few shoots out of those greening canes?

Irving felt so energized by the day -- 8C when we came down for breakfast and destined to quickly rise to 18C by mid-afternoon -- that he decided he'd wash and vacuum the car. It took him quite awhile. He's not fussy about driving a sparkling-clean car, and doesn't wash it often, but when he does he takes it right down to every last little nook and cranny. The car mats will be drying in the sun for most of the afternoon.

And there was Melanie across the street, washing her car, too. And Lynne next door brought Irving up to date on what's been happening with her backyard neighbours. Another few houses for sale back there. We know one family well, and won't be glad to see them downsize to a bungalow where there are no stairs to climb. 

We did finally get around to corralling Jackie and Jillie -- could be it was the other way around -- to get out into the ravine, on a divine spring day of the first of May...

It is incredible what nature can get up to in one single day when her elements and her seasons are perfectly aligned. The measure of emerging foliage between yesterday and today is quite simply amazing. Here for one day, May has already accelerated awakening vegetation in the forest. The forest floor is still that dried, dun colour, but here and there bits of green are evolving.

Birds are ecstatic over spring's arrival. There are goldfinches now flitting about in their inimitable graceful swoops and a chorus of song rivalling those of the cardinals. The former a choir, the latter soloists. Of the owls, no sight today, though one acquaintance informed us she had seen the male a bit of a distance from the breeding tree. And, lucky her, she had heard them yesterday, taken some close-up photos and by chance had captured one of the owlets exposed, she said as it balanced on the opening to the nest. Indistinct, she said, but identifiable. I've had a few of those...

This year is preparing to present a bumper crop of trilliums. Yesterday we saw one only. Today we saw a wide proliferation of them. And for the first time in my trillium experience, we came across a tight patch of newly-emerged trilliums. We usually see them with a respectable distance between each of the plants though at times two or three can be seen growing in very close proximity. On this occasion it was more like a dozen, squeezing up against one another in a growth-patch of family togetherness.