Ours is a veritable house of glass. We wouldn't want anyone throwing stones in the interior of this house, though we used to throw a ball around constantly at the anxious behest of our little dog Button who was transfixed by her ball challenging her to arrest it in motion, which she often did, with great skill. Throwing the ball about never occasioned any damage in our house of glass, though it did horrify my brother who witnessed our casual approach to living with all that glass.

He's an amateur ornithologist, an avoid bird-watcher. He's gone to great lengths to amass a diary of bird-sighting events, from travelling to the Florida Everglades to the Arctic and to Indonesia, among other destinations. His fascination comes naturally enough to him, since he's also a biologist. He appreciates the stained glass windows that my husband designs and translates into colourful glass panels.

The latest of which are close to completion, representing his self-assigned project for this past winter. He starts out by struggling to decide what he wants to feature in the spaces he's designed and built a wood infrastructure to contain. If it's birds or wildlife he consults the expertise of people like Lansdowne or Glenn Oates for inspiration and guidance in the formation of his own drawings that will form the basis for what will become a stained glass window. And then he considers the glass types and colours to be used.

Finally, setting about the task to draw a suitable cartoon, and if it's acceptable, to be drawn in the size that reflects the requirements of the panel. Finally, the paper pieces are cut out, numbered, and used as cutting guides for the selected glass. And eventually, another glass panel appears somewhere in our house. Overlaying the windows themselves, or contained within scaffolding erected to nestle them.

Of the four panels he has latterly designed, three have been completed over the winter months and now sit between our kitchen and our breakfast room, to further brighten our living environment. One left to go to complete the quartet. We have a red fox, a green heron and a loon.

It's been quite a while since we've come across foxes in the ravine, but they were once a fairly common sight, unfazed by our presence. The heron and loon we'd commonly see while canoeing with our children the many summers we spent leisurely enjoying nature in the Gatineau Hills, a short drive from our home.