News of the new COVID strain is smothering all other news items at the present time. The preeminent concern with the wide spread globally in alarmingly quick order. Much faster than the original Wuhan strain, and it in its first go-round was unbelievably swift in infecting the world population. Omicron is that much more impressively invasive and infectious. 

The Province of Ontario is urgently trying to convince its residents to waste no time in booking a third, 'booster' shot in self-defence against the virus. Two weeks ago when it was first announced that those over 70 years of age in the province were eligible to make appointments through the provincial booking agency, we did just that. The best they could offer us was an appointment on December 31. We read soon afterward that there were so many attempts at booking the system went down, leaving people flummoxed.

You do a mental shrug, well, it's something' we did after all get an appointment. The booking agent knew our history of course, it's all available online; 85 years of age, and from the time of our second dose almost six months had elapsed one of the conditions to be met by anyone wanted a third dose. Famously/infamously, it is generally known that by six months following the second dose of vaccine, antibodies have waned considerably; so from at least an 80% protection rate, it has plummeted to below30%. 

Today, emergency news blared the absolute, utter requirement that all vulnerable people, indeed everyone from childhood up, must be vaccinated with the booster shot. Urging people to right away, instantly make their appointments so that as many people as possible can be vaccinated by year's end. So much for efficiency and bureaucratic malaise. We're headed directly into a storm of frightful proportions and everything we heard on the CBC's emergency updates sounds more like political electioneering poses than sound medical advice with sonorous voices of 'authority' intoning how we're all in this together and Ontario has done a magnificent job of protecting its population.

Today a different, more expected and natural storm developed, and we found ourselves in a snow blizzard. Blowing wind and heavy snow created near a white-out landscape. And we know from long experience that new snow over existing ice creates really hazardous conditions. What was merely difficult yesterday would today be downright dangerous. Not only does new snow on ice make for extremely slippery conditions, newfallen snow hides from view what lies under it, ensuring that searching out safe places to tread in avoiding the ice would no longer be possible.

 

The alternative was something we usually avoid if at all possible, and today it was not: a walk with Jackie and Jillie well leashed, on nearby streets. Even that turned out to be difficult as we watched a teen slithering on icy portions of the road with his year-old bulldog who wanted to play with Jackie and Jillie hauling him along.

Cold enough at -3 for Jackie and Jillie to need their boots on the falling snow. Jackie was beside himself with happiness, wandering everywhere back and forth, under and over and across Jillie's leash, prancing about on the snow, fully exhilarated by its presence. They were both slipping on thin layers of ice under the snow, but it makes all the difference being on level ground, to enable one to maintain balance. 

The wind whipped the snow into our faces as we walked along the sidewalk next to a heavily-trafficked main road until we made our way once again back onto a street that is more like a looping court with a little playground that was quite abandoned of the presence of children anywhere. Irving and I are anything but fond about walking on urban streets, but Jackie and Jillie didn't seem to mind today, and getting them out for a bit of a stretch and fresh air was the important thing.

Before reaching home we passed the ravine entrance and decided to drop the bag of stools we had accumulated from J&J on the way, in the receptacle for ordure at the entrance to the forest. Leaving the road and stepping onto the trail, our boots were soon slipping everywhere as we negotiated the newfallen snow, revealing the ice underfoot. Conditions so dangerous it would have been well nigh impossible to descend the first long hill into the ravine, as usual without risking life and limb. 

I really, truly, have no wish to go anywhere where I will be in close contact with anyone. I've cancelled appointments at the hospital for check-ups because I hesitate to appear there. But several days ago an old filling was suddenly missing and when I run my tongue along the two teeth between which there is now a gap the size of the Ausable Chasm, I 'grit my teeth' and will go to the dentist to get it looked after. That's what I've got to look forward to, tomorrow.

Today no appointments anywhere, which is just how I like it. Irving needs to get new eyeglasses. Although his current pair isn't that old, and he had non-glare and non-scratch features on the lenses, they're somehow well scratched and need replacing. The odd thing is that unlike me, he is careful with his glasses. As soon as the optometrist strike is over in Ontario he'll make an appointment for an examination and see if his prescription needs changing.

I suspect many other people react just as we do when it comes to making appointments revolving around their health and well-being in this time of the novel coronavirus. Contact is minimal, crowds to be avoided, masks mandatory and the result is that this area is being very well managed, with a fairly low case count. Occasionally we'll see a child on a bicycle wheeling down the street with a mask on. That's a mother who is concerned to a fault, and a child who is obedient to that concern.

Irving took Jackie and Jillie out to the ravine last thing before we went up to bed, last night. On the porch, was a single, very small -- the smallest we've yet seen -- little raccoon; earlier a pair of quite large raccoons were scooping up peanuts. If either of the two families had been around, we missed them. A few minutes later, when we were getting into bed, the sound of voluminous rain hitting the window. And it rained profusely all night, one downpour after another.

So it's a soaked landscape we have, but despite weather warning of possible thunderstorms erupting in the afternoon, we've had a bright sunny day of 22C, just perfect for a hike through the ravine. When we were preparing to go out, Jackie and Jillie tore through the  house in a wild escapade of jubilant expectation. This was well before we asked their permission to prepare ourselves to forge into the woods with them.

And so, we did, and we found the forest floor surprisingly wet everywhere. Just yesterday it was dry when we expected it would exhibit at least a bit of reaction from previous rainfalls. Conditions were such that when we brought Jackie and Jillie home and washed their paws after our hike the previous few days it took forever to get them clean. Today it was so wet that their paws were sparkling clean.

When we made our way out by going through the meadow first on our way up and out of the ravine, there were two young boys with some rudimentary gear in the creek by the output pipe busy trying to corral goldfish. None were to be seen, the water was fairly turbulent from all the rain. This wasn't their first foray and they were determined to bring home a few fish to join others they had managed to scoop up in their home fish tanks. When I see boys engaged in this kind of enterprise, I think of our own youngest when he was that age.

I was contemplating what to prepare for dinner tonight and I had two likely candidates, then settled on a savoury harvest tart. I don't make them very often, and we both like that combination of vegetables and cheese in a double crust. It starts out with gently stirred garlic and onion in olive oil, and I added some fennel seed. When the bottom crust is rolled out, in goes the cooled garlic/onion. Then anchovies, because Irving suggested we add them. Over that layer, a layer of shredded Mozzarella cheese, followed by sliced tomatoes sprinkled with oregano and basil. Then more cheese, including Parmesan this time. On with the top crust, and into the oven!

 

Today is the day we had originally made appointments for our first anti-COVID inoculations. Until we read in the newspaper this past Monday that the automated bookings for March 23, 24 and 25 had seen a problem arise through double bookings. The article advised people to call the provincial number contact to correct the situation. In that a new appointment had to be scheduled. So the rigmarole was repeated, waiting seemingly endlessly for a response on the other end, for the purpose of re-scheduling our appointments.

First off, it was the online registrations that had gone awry. Once the questionnaire had been completed with all your applicable data proving eligibility to enable registration, people trying that route were suddenly confronted by a blank screen with the tiny message: "tampered". When I read that I thought I had done something wrong in filling in the application, but no, this occurred to just about everyone trying to register online.

So we tried telephone booking and did an internal "hurray!" when we were given today's date for our vaccinations. Now that too had been messed up. Our new appointments are for Friday. In this morning's news, however, a report that thousands of people showing up as instructed for their appointments at a number of area vaccination sites, including the one we're to report to, found the situation repeating itself. Double booking again. Such that the city put out shuttle buses to reduce the waiting crowd and drive them to other sites. 

The kind of gross ineptitude that can only leave you shaking your head with dismay and wondering can't they get anything right? The province hasn't been able to inoculate more than fifty percent of over-80s, yet it's inviting people over 75 to begin to register for appointments. Demonstrating how best not to inspire confidence in government efficiency.

Adding to the gloom, an all-day rain. So it's dark in the house and it feels damp and cooler than it really is, and Jackie and Jillie may be bored, but they harbour no interest whatever in getting outdoors on a rainy day. I actually have to order Jillie to get out there and pee. She finds it horribly distasteful to get her tiny paws wet and will do just about anything to avoid wet grass. There's some snow left in the backyard and that she's not averse to settling on to relieve herself. Go figure.

But Spring has arrived and April is just around the corner. It's when, beyond my best intentions to ignore the inevitable, thoughts of spring cleaning come to mind. So I thought I'd start off with taking down and washing the window sheers. It's a drag, hauling them all down, removing the countless hooks, washing and drying the sheers, returning the hooks and re-hanging the sheers. Although our windows are covered with stained glass, in the summer months the heat of the sun is conveyed to the house interior by the stained glass and the sheers are drawn to prevent that. What works beautifully in winter, sees the reverse in summer.

Yesterday we had an especially long ravine hike, and it's just as well we did, since there was no opportunity today. Jackie and Jillie are mollified by the presentation of their usual after-hike bowl of fresh vegetables, but we acutely feel that something is missing from the day. 

 Yesterday we had a macaroni-and-cheese casserole for a change, with a fresh vegetable salad. It felt kind of springlike. I used whole-wheat pasta, and when I was preparing the choux, added marble cheddar, and lots of pepper and dry mustard. When it was done, I added sliced green onions and mixed it all into the cooked macaroni. Then I layered the pasta with frozen green peas atop which I spread canned pink salmon and the final top layer of pasta. Breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese over the top, it was popped into the oven, and dinner was done.

We keep ping-ponging back and forth between icy days of wind and bright sunny skies and overcast conditions bringing light snow and milder alternates, These winter days keep influencing our meals for comfort foods leading to that internal warmth so badly needed, and yesterday we turned to hot soup again, our go-to menu for Sunday evenings. Nourishing and good-tasting, the fragrance of the soup wafts through the house whetting appetites and promising an enjoyable dinner. Cheese, toast, marinated herring and fresh sliced peaches for dessert rounded out the meal.

This time I used a mix of beans, peas, lentils and barley, augmented with fresh grated carrots, zucchini, chopped tomato, cumin and fennel seeds in a chicken soup base, with 1/3 cup tomato paste added for good measure. There's any number of combinations starting with peas, beans or lentils adding vegetables that make for a good, hearty soup, and over the years it seems we've tried them all.

Ontario is about to relax its lockdown to permit businesses other than food stores and pharmacies to re-open, reflecting a reduction in the daily number of reported coronavirus cases. Irving ran out of wine and cider a few weeks ago and decided today he'd go out to replenish a collapsed supply before the big rush scheduled for tomorrow begins. We haven't driven anywhere in ages other than to the supermarket once weekly and this time the truck refused to start, the battery cold. He'll have to give it a boost, but meanwhile he took the car and came back with enough of the bubbly to last awhile.

Earlier we had gone out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie for our usual traipse through the trails. Overnight the temperature had dropped to -18C but by the time we set out it had risen all the way to -6C, and hardly any wind, though we had 40kmh to 50kmh winds ripping through the night. That wind had whipped a lot of the snow that had so beautifully settled on the forest canopy, onto the forest floor. It was quiescent for us throughout our circuit until the very last ten minutes or so, when we transited from comfortable to cool; a bit of a shock to feel the penetrating cold through our jackets.

 A fair number of other people were out on the trails, many with their dogs, most of whom Jackie and Jillie, as is usual for them, were not too friendly with. One large black Lab was offended by Jackie's irritating barking directed straight at him, so he returned the compliment barking a whole lot louder with a growl to end it, then walked off in disdain. Jackie reacted by trying to climb up my pant leg to be held and comforted; not likely pal. He's got to learn if at all possible that actions have consequences.

Most large dogs are pretty laid back, and for that matter most of the dogs we come across in the ravine irrespective of size and breed tend to be friendly; at the very least civil, neither of which could describe Jackie and Jillie out in public. Jillie at least, after she's exhausted her shrill barking does change her attitude and is willing to make friends; Jackie who is really responding to Jillie's incitement,  is less likely to.

So, we rounded up our circuit to make our way back up the hill out of the ravine to the street, and home. Invariably, we come across someone just parking at the lip of the ravine and preparing to take their dog/s out for their own daily trip through the trails, and increasingly, we and they are beginning to recognize one another as 'frequent travellers'.

 

There are two topics dominating the Internet, newsprint and airwaves today and they both have a global impact. It's hard to say at this point which deserves the most prominent spacing in the newspaper, though in fact one article after another and opinion piece focuses on just those two; COVID-19, its spread and breadth of carnage globally and President Donald Trump's incredible machinations guided by his ego.

Both of our newspapers were filled with depressing reports on both fronts. It seems quite possible that the man whose volatile utterances, decision-making and impact internationally may some day soon end up in a psychiatric ward somewhere: Walter Reid Hospital...? 

 News of the novel coronavirus having undergone some worrying mutations in the United Kingdom and South Africa that may take the shine off reports of vaccine production and distribution if it turns out to be resistant in some measure to the inoculations' efficacy a sombre note, just as the second wave is steadily increasing the number of cases and hospitals are being strained to their limits.

Older Canadians, called 'snowbirds' who often winter in Florida, and some who own properties in Florida, have not flocked as is their usual custom, to escape Canada's severe winter, not this year of COVID uncertainty. Yet some have done so irrespective of the advice from government and health authorities to remain at home for the time being until COVID has been placed under control, perhaps in another year. Their reason for doing otherwise, returning to winter in Florida is that Florida's vaccination program is so much more advanced than Canada's is, and Canadians who present in Florida obtain early inoculations there, while those remaining at home in Canada must wait. 

For us, life calls us to our daily routines. It's as good a way as any to remain sane. This morning I asked my husband which he'd prefer, a raisin pie or butter tarts. Actually, the only difference between the two as I make them is that the same filling goes into a one-crust pie, or alternately into individual tart shells. The latter just a bit fussier than the former. And, as I was filling the tart shells, since that was his stated preference, I discovered I had run out of paper cups. No harm done.

I thought I'd also put together a bread dough for challah, and just refrigerate it. Since I had a bit of cottage cheese left over from making blintzes, and not enough to do anything else with, I put it into the bread dough along with honey, salt and eggs. I'd used a milk base and ended up with a larger amount of dough than I'd reckoned on, since I was a little reckless with amounts (I never bother measuring anything), so the thought occurred I could bake cinnamon buns for breakfast on Sunday.

After we'd puttered about the house awhile, it was time for Jackie and Jillie to gather us all together and set out for a turn in the ravine on a beautiful winter day. Icy cold, with a high of -7C, and a biting wind, but sun-warmed and -lighted withal -- at least in the house. The street outside the house is now almost clear of its accumulated snow and ice, but where the ice remains, at this temperature it's fairly slippery. No concern for us with our cleats.

We left both the sun and the wind behind when we dipped into the ravine to begin our round of the forest trails. Just as we approached the entrance and as we were speaking with a neighbour, one of our ravine hiking friends pulled up to park  on the street, and out came his three Border Collies. So Jackie and Jillie had company for the  hour-and-half we were out on the trails.

Those three dogs have got to be the most intelligent and well trained we've ever known -- and we've known them all their lives. They're litter-mates and now 13 years old. One of the males has lost almost all of his hearing, and he's the one who tends to lope ahead, although even from a distance he frequently turns around to look back to see where the others are, and to wait to allow them to catch up before he outdistances them again. Our friend often tells one of the others to bark a high-pitched yip when he's worried about the dog's whereabouts and he tends to respond quickly, swiftly returning.

The beauty of the day was irresistible to a lot of people, and we kept coming across them. And so at some choke points there gathered as many as eight dogs of various breeds and sizes, milling about, some chasing their pals, some just re-acquainting, while their humans exchanged messages, greetings and community talk -- in fact today the talk was mostly consumed with those two items of news that has concentrated peoples' minds on a world gone mad.

 

 

We're sometimes given to wondering whether there is anywhere else on Earth where the weather is as frustratingly changeable and near-to-impossible to predict as it is in the Ottawa Valley. Our chief weatherman several days back went to pains to convince area residents that a snowy Christmas would after all, eventuate. And he was forced today to retract that reassurance, updating the weather prediction to amend the forecast to rain, rain, rain.

We thought, given the forecast, if we didn't set out early enough in the morning, we would have to forego our usual daily romp through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie. They were confused, and thought we were preparing to set out without them to go somewhere and leave them languishing at home. A bit of a panic set in, even when they saw us laying out their winter gear.

At that point in the day it was still cold enough to convince ourselves we wouldn't be likely to be caught out by the rain, a reasonable enough presumption. At -2C, if rain descended it would be freezing rain at the very least, perhaps even snow. Although the overcast was clamped on so tightly it seemed as though we were in a time warp, that it was night, not day, so that too engendered a bit of confusion for our puppies.

Set out we did, glad to see that the snow that had last fallen, all 2 cm of it when it should have been ten times more, was still around, somewhat brightening the landscape and lifting the pall of early-morning gloom. In fact, we were more than comfortable with the morning, and felt like taking a long, leisurely hike, planning to make the most of the opportunity since if the forecast was right, we likely wouldn't be able to get out tomorrow.

 We were surprised, though we shouldn't really have been, to encounter quite a few other people and their dogs on the trails. Everyone seemed cheerful, the good cheer of the incoming Christmas and New Year holidays resonated with smiles and greetings and well-wishing. As long as no one mentioned that when Christmas Day arrived, it would be to a dark, rainy day which will have banished what was left of our bright, beautiful snow coverage.

Little wonder we're so fixated on the weather. It's so volatile. And we've now been officially alerted by Environment Canada to expect this teeter-totter weather from warm to teeth-achingly cold, rain and snow, freezing rain and sleet, all of which we receive in a normal winter, with the weight or seasonal precipitation in favour of snow. This winter is already shaping up to be one for the books.

This year of 2020 is one that many people will be delighted to see the last of. To characterize it as unusual in every way is to minimize its impact on our lives. The pandemic has had such a universal outreach there is nowhere on this planet that it hasn't impacted; now we learn that even Antarctica has registered COVID cases, and South Africa has a new, mutated virus rapidly spreading and so efficient it is far more contagious than the original versions.

All the more reason to be grateful we haven't been personally touched by the virus, even as we quail with inner fear as the case numbers keep ratcheting up day by day. So day by day we live our lives, depend upon routine to keep us grounded, engage in some introspection to enumerate the ways in which our lives remain significant, precious and rewarding. And look forward to better days returning now that effective and safe vaccines are beginning their circulation.

 

We were up early this morning intending to get out to do the food shopping even a little earlier than usual. Leaving two disconsolate little dogs whimpering and yowling to look after themselves in our absence for we had, after all, explained to them time and again that we were going out to bring back all kinds of edible goodies for them, so we set off with a good conscience.

There was less traffic on the road than we usually see. We assumed that the frantic Christmas shopping rush hadn't yet taken over the morning. And then we drove into the parking lot of the supermarket we shop at and were amazed to confront an unusual spectacle. Even at any time of the day that parking lot is never full. And when we usually arrive early morning to do our shopping it's almost empty on most occasions.

Not this time. We soon approached near enough to see a long line of would-be shoppers snaking two meters distant from one another the length of the store exterior, continuing to take in all the other storesfronts, none of them yet open, that comprise the bulk of the shops in linear fashion on that side of the plaza. All.those.people.waiting.to.get in.

This, we know, is a Toronto thing. We aren't in Toronto. There are supermarkets galore in our neighbourhood, plenty of venues where people can shop. And rarely are there such lineups. People were panicking, we guessed, as a result of the provincial premier having announced yesterday a province-wide lockdown to begin on Boxing Day for the following three weeks. Or was it that everyone was intent on getting their Christmas food shopping done three days before Christmas? Or was it the general impression that early morning shopping isn't just for seniors seeking to avoid the human, virus-vending crush?

My husband turned the car around, headed for home. Not so fast, said his wife, we're shopping. So we waited, at first away back of the line, but it moved steadily ahead as people were being admitted while those who had already completed their shopping left. It took about a half-hour before we entered the store, and by then the line had regrown itself behind us to about the same length as when we had originally joined it.

The idea was obviously to avoid bottlenecks. The gradual admittance ensured that people would move steadily forward, welcomed bit by bit, each taking possession of a disinfection-sprayed shopping cart. We were apprehensive that the shelves would be empty, and some were, but not most. We had no difficulty selecting what we needed for the week although in several instances had to be satisfied with substitutes when confronted with a wide, yawning shelf empty of its offerings.

What a joyous reunion when we returned! No longer abandoned our puppies generously forgave us and nicely obliged us by gobbling up a few treats. They followed us around while we re-distributed the food into the refrigerator, the pantry, this shelf and that shelf until it was all completed. They take their supervisory role in this household quite seriously.

The temperature for the day hovered around zero, so it wasn't very cold. Light snow was falling, the sky was heavily overcast, and there was wind. By the time we emerged again led by Jackie and Jillie who recommended that we hold the leashes and follow their direction, the wind had picked up substantially, clearly bringing in another front. It was damp feeling and colder than it should have felt thanks to the insistence of the wind raking our faces.

We discovered today that someone had snapped a photo of a fisher standing on one of the bridges. He'd had a swift response on seeing that ferocious little creature, snapping it before it left the scene. So now we know that small animals like squirrels, raccoons and foxes have fishers to contend with. We stood for a short while discussing the critturs in the forest while five dogs patiently waited for four people to get on with their trail hikes. One fellow had seen a wild turkey presumably killed by coyotes; if so why wasn't it eaten?

Another a large beaver corpse which, he surmised had been confronted by at least two coyotes, since beavers are well known to be able to look after themselves when attacked. The population of the forest has taken quite a turn with the introduction of coyotes. The abundance of small wildlife we once saw regularly years ago is no longer in evidence; partly responsible is that around the top of the ravine more houses were built in the past thirty years, and part of it is due to the presence of alpha predators represented by coyotes and fishers.

Jackie and Jillie will just have to remain content to be on leash forever now, it seems. Although truth to tell they haven't complained about the leash restraints on their freedom.

It seems we've been enjoying fewer sunny days than normal so far this winter. Today may be the shortest day of the year, but we've been in the thrall of short daylight hours for quite awhile; and now the long slow reversal begins. Meanwhile, we live in a kind of perpetual dusk and in the forest interior that light darkness prevails.