Yesterday morning brought us more snow amid plunging temperatures. Looking out the front door at the snow tumbling from the sky and the soft, fluffy stuff clinging to the trees in the garden recalled visions as a child of a winter wonderland, a not incorrect impression of what we live with in our climate for four months of each year. It was mild enough yesterday that snow melted off the metal-roofed canopy on the deck at the back of the house, while the burden of snow was measurably reduced on snow roofs.

It was deeply overcast, however, so much so that it seemed as though there was a fog enveloping us when the snow did eventually stop at mid-day. Which is when we went out for our daily ravine hike in the forest contiguous with the streets in our near neighbourhood. Wind had by then whipped the snow from tree branches, and enough people had been out that day to take advantage of milder temperatures and the vision of newfallen snow in a forest to tamp the trails down nicely.

Sun, and colder temperatures, along with a windchill has returned today, however. We're grateful for a snug, warm house. This is a house when we're surrounded by the vibrant colours of summer whenever we look out one of the windows of our home. Perhaps it's far more accurate to say, 'whenever we look at one of the windows of our home'.

So we have light and dancing colour and ephemeral visions of another season surrounding us whatever the season outside. This house is never moody, but it is serene and suffused with a sweet gracefulness that is comforting while at the same time steeped in visual excitement. Thanks to my enterprising, aesthetics-conscious, skilled husband whose design and construction of those windows gladdens our vision and warms our souls.