By the time I finished cleaning the house yesterday (awful Mondays; just kidding, I don't mind cleaning at all) it was already past three in the afternoon, which would make for a fairly late ravine walk. In the summer months three is early as far as daylight hours are concerned. At this time of year and for the following four months setting out so late guarantees that dusk will be entering the forest by the time we've almost completed our circuit.

Which is fine, actually, because it's pleasurable seeing the forest tinted in shades of darker colour as it fades into the darkness of the interior because it's also the time when the forest it backlit by spectacular shades of bright pastel colours like pinks and oranges streaking across the sky if the sun is setting, and if it's overcast, those colours are still there, but fainter and colouring the entire sky.

In years past when we used to take our daily ravine walks after or just before dinner, in the dark, it was never really dark in the woods. On overcast days in particular, light bouncing off the city into the atmosphere would cast bright shades of pink and mauve into the forest below, lighting it beautifully, transforming it into a wonderland of brightness as clear as day.

We'd had fresh snow come down overnight on Sunday and through Monday's early morning hours, so the aspect that greeted our eyes on entering the ravine was once again bright white, bare boughs and trunks limned in new snow, creating yet another spectacularly beautiful landscape. And although it was windy up at street level, the wind barely penetrated the ravined forest, and we were grateful for that, since at minus-7C, it was cold enough.

When it's that cold, in fact, it is right on the cusp of what Jackie and Jillie's little paws can tolerate. We're happy not to have to pull Muttluks over their little feet and up their legs, though they tolerate them, as well. It's the inconvenience and the patience it takes to get them on, the initial reaction of the puzzled little dogs, until memory reminds them they've been through this before, and they accept the situation.

That (to them) intelligible messages about which dogs of their acquaintance had been out that day, leaving their inevitable territorial markings.

having been said, yesterday's woodland ramble didn't necessitate their use. They seemed comfortable enough in their winter coats, nimbly rushing about on the trails, eager to transcribe all the smells that captivated their interest into

By the time we exited to clamber the last long hill giving out to the street we live on, darkness was steadily descending, the moon was fully lit, the street looked peaceful, but the Christmas lights adorning most peoples' home exteriors were not yet blazing as they would be, moments later.