When the sun is out, this house of ours is agleam and aglitter with light, as a result of its many large windows, some of them of two-story-height. When it is overcast as it tends to be when snow falls and the sky is still bright, but with the colour of pewter, the house interior tends to be, of course, on the dark side.

Walk the short few steps it takes to gain ingress to the ravine on our street and everything is transformed. True, the sky still has that pewter cast, so much so that it is difficult to tell where the horizon separates sky and earth. But because we're out there directly in the landscape everything takes on a bright cast of silver-white.

That is yet further enhanced when we're in the midst of a heavily determined snowfall. The forecast yesterday was for snow, up to 10 cm, turning at times to freezing rain, and as the temperature rose, to plain rain. Truth is, it was mild, the temperature having risen to zero-degrees and remaining there for the day.

Which meant that we could dress lighter and still expect to be comfortable, and Jackie and Jillie had no need to demonstrate their rare patience as their Muttluks were painstakingly pulled on over their tiny paws and skinny legs. With or without the ice-protecting Muttluks they're enthused beyond belief once they're released to the mysteries of the ravine. Racing about, sniffing everywhere, leaping happily and like good little fellows, returning when they're called.

To say that the atmosphere and the scenic environment appeals to our appreciation of nature is to understate the reality. At no time does the forest look more inviting and beautiful than it does when layers left behind by previous snowfalls have created a dense base on the forest floor, and a fresh snowfall is in the process of nicely dusting the trees in a layer of pure white fluff.

Our boots crushing through the newfallen snow were silent, the sound absorbed by the all-encompassing comforter of frozen flakes, loftily celebrating winter. We saw nothing stirring, not even a squirrel, though they tend not to appreciate deep snow layers, since they can become mired all too easily making them easy pickings for predators. When we had just about completed our usual circuit, however, the faint staccato of a Pileated woodpecker penetrated our consciousness; that too muffled by the ambient cushion of snow.

By the time we've completed the circuit, taking anywhere from an hour to an hour-and-a-half of slogging uphill and down, we're well and truly exhausted, but pleased at the excursion.