Driving down Highway Nine just after Orangeville, a motorcycle pulls past on the right. I notice it because here the right-hand lane is quite short. I'll have to make room to let it in. Then, I realize there is a side-car attached to the motorcycle. In the side car is something brown and fluffy. Another quick look away from the car in front of me to figure out what I am seeing, and there is motion in the seat. The picture now becomes clear. Two medium size dogs sit side by side, with small helmets on their heads and a harness buckling them in place. When one dog shifts, the driver reaches over and pats, or presses, the dog's head. The dog resettles as the motorcycle slips into my lane three cars ahead of me. No more chance to check that I interpreted what I saw correctly.

I have seen these doggy seatbelts in cars, and they are pretty secure. Would I trust them in a side car? I doubt it, but then, I have never trusted myself to a motorcycle even as a passenger with a careful driver.

There were quite a few motorcycles out on that sunny day with no threat of rain before night. Time to get re-accustomed to sharing the road with these vehicles. I suspect the drivers who love them have been anxious to get them out and on the road. All that I saw, except one, were travelling safely and were easy to share the road with. However, in a small town, at the head of a group of three, one danced back and forth in their lane, leaning one way and then the other. The road was perfectly dry. I am sure they knew their ride and would stay upright. But they always make me uneasy when they try that, whether I am behind them or beside them.

We didn't pass as many police cars as I expected until we got almost to Kingston. There had been one without markings, but because it didn't have flashing lights, I am guessing it was a police car. The four-way flashers on the vehicle were quite unusual, but it had interesting antenna's and seemed to have that typical light beside the mirror.

Just past Belleville, there were several police vehicles pulled over with lights flashing. I expected more on a holiday weekend. There had been a few aggressive drivers on the road. Near Toronto, glancing in the side mirror, I caught sight of a car on my left. Then, it went behind me, beside me on the right, in front of me and back to the left. It sped ahead out of sight. A while later one raced passed on the right, again moving in front of me and to my left. This one surprised me, because I had not seen it coming.

It has been such a slow spring that the trees were just budding out. Beside the deep green of the evergreens, I could see the grey, white, and brown branches of the other trees. And the colour of the first budding leaves was fascinating. Many were a pale green: some almost yellow, others luminous, others a fresh, soft green, some brilliant frog-green. Some leaves were silver. Others were a rusty red. The hills beside the highway were rainbow bright. Fall colours are more spectacular, but the spring colours were beautiful.

When we got to the city, we were staying in a new suburb still under construction. The lawns were all sand and grit. The driveways were black gravel. To get to the house, we had to negotiate construction pylons, the boards for the sidewalks to be poured this week, and the refuse that gets blown around a construction site. But in the wetland between the back of the house and a storage yard, redwinged blackbirds sang and flew. Mallard ducks swam in the slow-moving water. (These we do have at our new house. They have been helping clean up under our bird feeder, but that's a different story.) In the evening when we opened the window to let fresh air into the room, we heard the song of spring peepers. It was such a joy to hear these small creatures. I've been missing them.

Travelling is always an adventure. Visiting family gives a chance to catch up on life. But this trip, I was taken by surprise in so many ways.

Cathy Hird lives on the shore of Georgian Bay.