Now this is truly an atmospheric mystery. Ottawa, one of the world's coldest winter capitals, outdone only by Ulan Baator, Mongolia, Astana, Kazakhstan, Minsk, Belarus, and Moscow, Russia, is now basking in sunlight, and perspiring in a high for the day of 17 degrees Celsius. There is no snow in near prospect, not for today, not for tomorrow, Christmas Day. This is (almost) unheard of, and weather records have been falling steadily for the past month. We should be at least shin-deep in snow, but there is none to be seen anywhere in the area.

Little wonder I've been having strange dreams. Last night, for example, was a contrast to the one earlier in the week when my husband hushed me awake soothingly while I was in the throes of whimpering for 'help!' at the mercy of some demented evil-doer intent on doing me harm. In last night's dream I was raking a very grassy-green front lawn and discovering the presence of ready-for-harvest squashes, cabbages and tomatoes. Generously offering them to our neighbours.

It was extremely pleasing to see our lawn playing host to large, fresh and ripe vegetables, acting out a role of agricultural plenty, and how much closer to home could such an assurance of food plenty and security get? The winter woods remain littered with fallen foliage, with no snow to blanket them in an overall coverlet of dazzling white.

It is beyond puzzling that this season has been dawdling its way toward winter. And when not just the calendar, but the environmental-weather winter does eventually arrive, what will it present as? An answer that only time can provide.