We're on the cusp of collapsing into another cold spell. When the new week dawns it will be extremely cold again. Although the chill weather has not yet reached us, the wind promises to herald it in; it is very blustery out, though the high for this day will be minus-4-degrees, like yesterday.

When we embarked on our daily ravine walk early yesterday just as afternoon set in I realized that the head band I'd put on wouldn't be enough cover, and shrugged the hood of my jacket into place, for the snow was falling, lightly, but it would accumulate throughout the course of our walk, making me look rather like an ambulating snowperson.

The falling snow cradled the atmosphere, making it appear softly delightful. And, as we progressed during our walk the snow picked up its intensity, driving toward us, far fuller, still pleasurable. The squirrels were out in full force, headed toward their usual peanut-cache places. We saw no one else out and about; clearly Saturdays are meant for shopping.

Home again, we decided to take a trip downtown, a little expedition that promised its usual attractive drive along the Western Parkway, edging the Ottawa River. The river is now completely frozen over, and the falling snow accumulates on the river ice, so one might think it was a snow field, not a broad river frozen over for winter.

By this time we were into snowsqualls, beautiful, but giving us a shortened view of everything; visibility was badly impaired, but the snowfall was lovely. Under such conditions, the prevailing light is hushed and mysterious. The difference between the sky and the land, and the snow coming down hard is difficult to differentiate; everything looks white-grey, a light pewter shade.

The odd thing was that though the heavens had clearly closed in gifting us with an abundance of snow, the sun had still managed to get through, and it sat there glowering, gold and insistent that it too be noticed. Hard not to notice it under such circumstances, the entire scene looked utterly surreal.

We could see dimly across the river to the Quebec side as we drove along, the 19th-Century-village aspect that always seems so out of touch with the reality of Gatineau as a modern city. The impression, however, is amplified by the sight of small fishing huts scattered here and there on the frozen river, and the presence of tiny figures around the huts, enjoying winter and fishing through the ice.

Even the view of the Parliament Buildings with their Gothic-inspired design enveloped in snow, conditions clearing out the usual press of tourists in evidence, reminded one of a far earlier era.

We stopped at the Byward Market to pick up a few items, then drove along from Sussex Drive to access the Eastern Parkway, which took us in due time to the stained glass store where my husband picked up supplies to enable him to get on with his newest projects.

When the snow eventually did temporarily stop before ratcheting up again later in the early evening, the sun was nowhere to be seen. The struggle between the sun's insistence and the storm's reality may be thought to have been won by the atmospheric conditions, but they're temporary and the sun's presence is not.