Leaving the house has become a much more important event to schedule now that I'm working only at home. Last night was a miniature Smith alums meet. Today was picnicking.

It feels very wrong to go picnicking in early March. By definition, it's still winter here. In Toronto, the CN Tower has been on an icy rampage, throwing sheets of ice at the Gardiner Expressway. Here, the temperatures are generally mild, interspersed with rain and wind. And so we gambled on the weather and went picnicking at Mudchute Farm. The idea, and the location are all to ewtikins's credit. She even brought a plastic-bottomed blanket, so we settled into a hollow in a sheep field with food to sustain and hills to protect. The sheep grazed hither and yon, regularly disappearing entirely behind the enfolding curve of the hill. She'd made very good fruity, muesli-enriched muffins, and brought vegetables and a hot spiced infusion. I brought olive oil, accompanied by slices of mozzarella and demi-baguette.

The sun dappled warmingly down on us, while clouds summoned up heavenly fingers of light. The odd gust of intruding wind made us second-guess the protection of the hill. Only as we were cleaning up post-picnic did the wind blow us the rainclouds. By the time we'd left the hill's enclosure and out into stronger, chiller breezes, plump droplets splatting on hats and arms, more like melted hail than a gentle spring shower. The sheep* had all sensible meandered off the hill's far side, safe from the wind.

* Thanks to hobbitblue, who linked to the Shaun the Sheep the Show website earlier today, I had Shaun in the back of my mind every time I saw yet another sheep.