We waited yesterday until one in the afternoon, at which time the atmosphere for a woodland walk looked inviting enough to set out, the temperature risen to minus-four-degrees Celsius. Meaning that, we hoped, even with the abundant snowfall we'd received in the last two days, including what was currently in free-fall, our two little dogs could manage the walk without their paws freezing up. If we can avoid putting their boots on, we do.

The trails had been whacked down nicely of their burden of snow, by other trail walkers who come out faithfully to take advantage of the cold, fresh air and the beauty surrounding them in the forested ravine. Our little dogs have a tendency at times to walk slightly off the trail, so the length of their short legs become entirely encased in snow, and we too do likewise, to enable us to deposit peanuts in the usual cache places, so perambulating along our usual route presented a bit more of a physical challenge than is usually the case.

We saw a few other hardy souls out with their dogs. All the other dogs were large; German Shepherds, Malamutes, even a Dalmatian, whose owner had dressed him in a coat and short boots to enable that short-haired dog to gambol happily to its heart's content, in the depths of the snow. All the other dogs are younger by far than ours, immune to the cold, entranced by all that white snow, and busily investigating the entire landscape, their nature-attuned environment.

The people whom we used to see a decade ago and earlier, no longer come out for walks in the ravine. Their dogs, with whom our own had been so familiar, had grown old, and had gone on to Dog Heaven. Sometimes the people replaced their dogs, more often they did not. Occasionally we see the second- and the third-generation of dogs being walked by old familiar faces. More often we see younger walkers taking their place, and dogs of more recent vintage.

I experienced a little fuss attempting to manipulate my digital camera with gloved-and-mitted hands, but managed to get a few shots, before having to abandon any further such venture. The uphill clambers in the snow were more difficult than usual. The wind picked up the soft, deep cover of snow on branches and made of them a ghostlike veil, whipping off tree branches.

And the snow kept tumbling out of a pewter sky, enveloping us in accumulated layers of a fine white dusting as we plodded forward and onward. By the time we reached home an hour-and-a-half later, we were truly exhausted, eager to reach the warmth of our house interior. We dipped our little dogs' paws into warm water to dissolve the snow packed into their paws, and towelled them off, leaving them to find their own places of comfort and warmth in their habitual places around the house.

Then I peeled and cubed an eggplant, salted and weighted it down in preparation for the assemblage of the evening meal - which included a large Jalapeno pepper, garlic cloves, onion, bell pepper, zucchini, tomatoes, and rice, and patties of fish separately prepared, to be finished off with fresh blueberries for dessert.

It's what's termed 'healthy living'. Tasted good, too.