The weather does a bang-up job of regulating our outdoor recreational activity day-to-day throughout the winter months. It isn't just how we react to extreme conditions being comfortable enough to want to spend an hour or so rambling about in a woodland setting, but how our two little dogs can manage.
It is, of course, up to us to determine how they will react to weather conditions.

Because they're so small extreme cold affects them more than it would larger dogs. So we dress them accordingly. It's their feet that concern us as well in weather such as we're accustomed to bearing up in during the winter months. This morning the thermometer read -22C, with a biting wind. So that's pretty cold.

By afternoon the cold had relented somewhat; the temperature had risen to -12C, with wind. Still too cold for Jackie and Jillie. We're fed up with those expensive and fairly useless Mukluks that we acquired for them, thinking they would solve the problem of extreme cold protection for small dogs' feet. The little booties I used to make years ago worked far better.

So, too cold for them to get out, yet they need their exercise. They flop about the house in rest-mode quite enough, as it is. We can detect signs of lassitude and boredom, we believe, when they're deprived of outdoor time for physical activity. Romping in the backyard briefly doesn't cut it. Not does their sudden spurts of energy racing after one another in the house; too brief, too limited.

So we decided we'd give alternate type of foot-covering for them a try. We brought home a package of semi-disposable rubber boots that stretch, like tiny balloons, over their paws only. Not much of a protective covering, we thought, in extreme cold and icy conditions, but we'd give them a try. And so, on they went, and off we went into the ravine.

Jackie and Jillie spurted happily down the trails with us following in their wake. They were delighted to be out and we were happy to be there in the forest with them, despite the cold and the wind. And it was snowing as well. The wind whipped the snow toward our faces, but once we were into the ravine the cover from the wind stopped all that.

Jackie and Jillie, the tiny rubber boots just visible on their little paws

We are more than pleased with the results. Although we took a shorter-than-normal circuit, cutting our usual hour down to a half-hour today, we'll more than make it up tomorrow when the forecast is for milder weather and we can resume our usual trek. In the meantime, we all got out satisfactorily for a brisk and exhilarating walk and those tiny boots stayed on, unlike the costly and useless winter boots that drive us crazy, dropping off continually.

Yesterday was one spectacularly good-feeling treat of a day. Surprisingly, when we came down for breakfast we found that the temperature had risen to -6C, and kept rising through the day quite steadily so that by the time we set out in mid-afternoon for a ravine walk it was a balmy 2C, with the sun which had been shining brightly all day just beginning to recede behind incoming clouds.

But not much wind, which made it a really pleasant day. Underfoot we were beginning to realize a little relief from the week-long icy conditions that would send the unwary sprawling before realizing what was happening.

In the ravine we encountered areas that continue to be frozen and awkwardly uneven and slippery, but there are other areas where the ice has relaxed, become rotten and no longer slippery, offering good purchase for our little dogs' small feet so that they don't slip and slide, and nor do we. But in the passage along the trails, transiting from high, flat areas to downhill and uphill clambers, the conditions change reflecting whether or not the sun is able to influence the ice.

In areas, understandably, that are low-lying and where the sun fails to penetrate, the conditions have remained the same; proceed with caution. Despite which, for the first time in a week we encountered so many of our friends and acquaintances out with their dogs and having a good time traipsing through the woods, it made our own passage beyond pleasant.

Stopping now and again to chat companionably, and hear someone rhapsodizing over the beauty of the day, a sentiment we were prepared to echo.

It truly was a special day. Not only because the landscape is so beautiful, but also because the elements that day were forgivingly benign. Actually, most of all because of the preceding two reasons, people were transported with a sense of deep appreciation for nature.

We just cannot recall a winter quite like this one. It's been extraordinarily strange. Although in Ottawa we're well accustomed to the vicissitudes of weather, and the way it can change dramatically and drastically in the space of hours; one day unlike the other, this one has been notable for its excesses. There have been other times in the past when we've been rudely introduced to weather inclement enough to make us alter our lifestyles however briefly.

The 1998 winter ice storm that enveloped a wide swath of territory from Canada (primarily Ontario and Quebec) to the United States (New York State, Vermont, New Hampshire) was one of those times. That's when it was truly dangerous to venture into the woods. Standing at the cusp of the ravine we could hear the continual sharp sound of branches heavier with ice than they could sustain, cracking off and falling to the forest floor.

This year has been unusual in the sustained periods of out-of-the-ordinary succession of days where the temperature remained under -20C and less at night and failed to rise beyond -16C during the day. That was followed by milder days, freezing rain events, milder days yet with days of pure rain, then snap-freeze-ups that turned all that precipitation into ice, followed by colder days again, and snow.

You guessed it; that led to more freezing rain, rain and an eventual thick layer of ice covering everything. And that's where we are now, and have been for the past week. So everything is slick with ice, making for fairly awkward conditions. We have always kept our backyard pathways shovelled out for our little dogs. At this juncture what they do on the trails is slither, slide and slip. And so do we. It ain't fun.

Hard to remember at times that there's a pleasant back-yard-worth of garden under all that snow and ice.

With just slight misgivings over whether we should leash our puppies for yesterday afternoon's ravine walk, for fear of their slipping again down one of the long descents leading to the flowing creek, we set off for a traipse through the forest pathways. And found, besides ourselves, no one else out. No doubt, we speculated, leery of the footing they'd find on the trails, and with good reason.

Everywhere the forest floor was humped with snow, but over that thick layering of accumulated snow was the slick ice that had resulted from ping-ponging weather events of plunging temperatures interspersed with snow, freezing rain and just rain in concert with temporarily rising temperatures. All of which made progress along the trails awkward, even though successive days of smashing through the ice had regained us our navigable trails left them in pretty bad shape.

Which was why Jackie and Jillie preferred to walk beside the tramped-down, but uneven and icy trails, picking their way complacently instead across the unbroken ice and occasionally venturing far too close to the lip of one of the hillsides, finding themselves in the inevitable dilemma of a slide they're unable to stop. Unless we call them back before they begin that dreaded slide.

The potential in this situation repeating itself after previous such occasions kept us calling to our little dogs to ensure they were reasonably close beside us at those points in our walk when they became vulnerable. There's a certain irritation factor built into that kind of event; they're not free to wander where they will, and we are strained to maintain closer contact with them to avoid any other troubling events from taking place.

Other than that, it was a glorious day, the sun full out under cloudless skies of winter blue. Making for some sensationally lovely micro-landscapes we viewed as we traipsed along. As shafts of sunlight lingered on trees, unhindered by foliage other than for the generosity of of evergreen boughs, those areas of the trees on which the light shone looked alive with a shimmering flame.

The luminous landscape was a treat for the eyes and made for a pleasant woodland hike for all of us. Before we finished our circuit for the day we did come across a pleasant young man with his large twelve-year-old golden retriever whose weight was sufficient to break the layer of ice over the forest floor. It was his human companion who was experiencing some difficulties in loping along the trail because he had left his cleats at home. We never remove ours from our winter hiking boots and it stands us in good stead.

There are countless limitations to humans reaching out to be closer to the angels than the demons within us. We are shameless hypocrites, attesting to the fact that we seem unable to rise above our primal urges. Resorting to hatred and to savaging one another through slanderous stereotypes while presenting ourselves as vastly superior, and turning from that preparatory stage to violence. Attacking one another mercilessly, waging wars of destruction; annihilating those representing the minority groups, ethnicities, religions we hold in contempt.

Our sense of entitlement allows us to view others as unworthy, while we are ourselves extraordinarily superior. And first things first; the inequality of the sexes, where gender entitles the males of the species to predatory acts bringing harm and humiliation to the other half of humanity. The vast scope of this predicament of moral dysfunction has never wanted for more than sufficient examples. Where tribal peoples, those with tribal mentalities and those who formulate religious and ideological values proscribe the very thought that women can take an equal place in all measures and manifestations of society. And we call this 'civilization'.

The persecution of women has a viral place throughout human history. Women valued for their industry and procreative endowment. To be kept as slaves answerable to their 'owners'. Punished should they ever flinch from this condition much less assert any vestige of independence. Ownership encompassed every area of a woman life, from cradle to grave. And from cradle to grave women have had to suffer never-ending assaults against the sovereignty of their bodies, their souls.

Never to say that men too and sometimes equally have been among those suffering the penalty of vulnerability. Nor that there exists men equal in number to those who impose their will on others, for whom equality between the sexes and love and caring spurs their emotions and actions. Those women with the good fortune to have aligned themselves and their futures with such men may have suffered abuse at some points in their lives but never from the men who love them as they love themselves.

But it is dispiriting beyond the tolerance of resignation that there has never been an era in human history, nor a society whose social contract firmly establishes the kind of equality that those who prefer entitlements over respect for others would dare deny let alone defy. And so, in our civilized and enlightened world where lip service is given to equality, the safety and security of women in society remains a question of locked lips and unseeing eyes.

Society sometimes turns against its status quo, and at this juncture in place and time we are witnessing a revolution where resentment simmering among women has found an outlet where women wronged have found a voice that resonates among other women and men who support them. What began in the world of celebrity has trickled down to corporate issues and finally to the political world, where icons of industry, film and the arts and political hierarchies have been named and shamed.

Holus-bolus suddenly those who at some point in their lives, have been identified as molesters, persecutors, deviants, rakes and pederasts, rapists and psychopaths of the first order in perhaps isolated incidents, perhaps an ongoing trajectory of abuse are  being identified. The process of naming these people, some of whom are guilty of ill judgement and juvenile behaviour more than egregious harm to women may sometimes leave much to be desired, but the avalanche of accusations appears unstoppable.

Famous personalities transformed into infamous molesters. Where once many of the abusers threatened to destroy an unwilling woman's career aspirations, they are now witness to their own careers spiralling from the heights of success to the depths of oblivion. We read countless accounts of women speaking of their experiences at the hands of men with power over their lives; those men's lives are now being destroyed in a viral atmosphere of actions having consequences and paying the piper.

Although some sympathy in some instances can be seen for those now suffering the results of their sociopathic belief in their inviolability behaving as men have always done and women suffering as they always have, there isn't a woman alive who is unable to recall events from childhood to maturity and beyond where she was humiliated, put upon, abused and used.

Through a combination of weather events linked in time and place, circumstances arise sometimes that pose a real risk to one's health. Yes, there's the annual concerns over flu, particularly this year when a combined strain of influenza has rendered its onset seriously dangerous to both young and old and the vaccine that was formulated has been rendered largely ineffective, but there are also other routine dangers to life and limb in the form of environmental complications in this season.

We're in a situation where exterior surfaces are entirely ice-covered. This occurred as a result of succeeding days of snow, rain, snow again and freezing rain transforming the dry snowpack into a danger zone of slick, thick ice lathered over the snow. The ice would not present as such a problem were it not paired with exceedingly cold temperatures and icy winds. Accompanying the extreme cold is clear skies, a mixed blessing under these circumstances, since even the wan (at this temperature and atmospheric distance) warmth of the winter sun is able to slightly melt the top layer of ice, which immediately freezes to a greater depth when night falls and so does the temperature.

On Monday during our ravine walk the icy conditions were such that we had to break through the layer of ice on the trail, which revealed the snow that had fallen the day before. At one juncture during our walk while we were on a  height, Jackie's curiosity sent him too far to the lip of a hill and he slid about a hundred feet before he could stop at one of the trails running alongside the hill below.
Yesterday, punching out way through the ice on an even colder day, the snow beneath was also ice-crusted and uneven and our little dogs preferred the unbroken surface of the ice which holds their inconsiderable weight, which was fine for them as long as they were on a level surface.

We called them back to us repeatedly as they approached the tipping point where they were too close to the descending hillside, but despite that, Jackie found himself in yet another predicament, sliding downhill toward the now-openly-running creek. He was momentarily stopped from sliding further by a protruding tuft of long grasses, and I began breaking the surface of the ice to access the hillside where he sat unable to move upward, fearful of sliding further downward. As I did so, one of my boots caught on the rigid surface of broken ice and I fell to a crouching position on my side, managing to reach out to him and haul him back by the handle of his harness while I struggled to free myself from the ice and my awkward position with my husband's help.

Today, while we were in the commercial parking lot of a medical center which charges an arm and a leg for parking so that patients can access medical practitioners, my husband, wearing good sturdy boots with a reliable grip, slid on the parking lot's icy surface, falling on his back. Seems the property's owners are determined to wring every penny they can out of clients, but cannot bother ensuring the lot surface is safe.

So, fearing another slide by one of our little dogs, ending in harm, we've opted to give our usual daily ramble in the winter woods a pass until the threat implicit in the presence of an overall ice surface has passed (we're expecting milder temperatures in another day), we'll wait out the threat until it's a bit safer to venture forth.                    

The ravine's creek has been released from its freeze-up following several days of milder weather accompanied by snow, ice pellets, freezing rain, rain and again snow. On Monday we had a ferocious snowfall, sufficient to restore the level of the snowpack which had melted in previous days' rain, and making for a delightful landscape in the forest. But that very evening freezing rain began falling and continued throughout the night.

When we set out yesterday afternoon for a ramble in the winter woods, it was in a fairly light by then freezing rainfall. The street had been ploughed but it was still full of snow and ice with deep ruts where vehicles had passed. And when we entered the ravine our first steps on the accumulated snowpack crashed through a thick layer of ice. Jackie and Jillie, two miniature-sized poodles, are light enough in weight to ensure they don't crush the ice, able to slip along over it securely, but we certainly did; the trails had been filled in with the snow of the day before and iced over by the freezing rain that followed and we were the first to break new trail at that juncture.

Each step taken crashing through a layer of ice to secure firmer footing on the snow below the ice represented an effort. A dragging effort of emphatic thrust and breakthrough and pulling ahead to the next step. A leisurely walk this was most definitely not; it was arduous and tiring. As we got deeper into the woods, however, the ice crust was far less thick requiring less energy to punch through. And as we progressed the effort required to do so became less energy-centric since others had been there on the main forested trails before us, unlike what we had encountered at our own street entry and beyond.

While we were on flat terrain this new challenge to the security of their footing hadn't presented as a problem to our little dogs. On the incline of the hills, however, a different story prevailed as they began slipping and sliding. Jackie, because of his sense of curiosity and adventure, got himself too close to the edge of a slope and slid helplessly about a hundred feet before coming to a rest down below where a trail led him around and back up to where we stood. Jillie seemed to be more sensitive to her surroundings, steering clear of vulnerable areas.

Tree boughs were weighted down by the presence of ice all over their evergreen needles, necessitating that we bow low as we passed under them. We half expected that we would come across the ice-weight effects from trees groaning under such unaccustomed weight, particularly from immature trees and those on whom the ice had gathered in abundance, but we saw no casualties this time around, as we have in the past.

There was little wind and the temperature was slightly above freezing, so it was a comfortable enough ambiance, although the need to be alert to the potential for slipping-and-sliding even with our trusty cleats bound over our boots kept us busy. On occasion, in the distance, on other trails we could sight from time to time, we would see others out and about with their dogs. On one such occasion we watched as a large dog attempted to scamper up one of the hills as he no doubt normally does, only to slide back helplessly to where he had begun.

Because it was Monday and Monday is cleaning day we set out later than usual yesterday afternoon since by the time I was finished cleaning the house it was already well past three in the afternoon. My husband came upstairs from his workshop and we discovered to our surprise that it was heavily snowing. Heavy, as in close to a white-out. Mind, heavy snow and freezing rain had been predicted for the day; we just hadn't paid attention.

We decided since it was mild at -2C, to pair Jackie and Jillie's winter raincoats with sweaters. Those raincoats come complete with links for their leashes so they didn't need the harnesses that we usually use. And off we went, heading straight into the blizzard. First, it was fairly mild, and true there was a wind but as we headed up to the ravine entrance it was at our backs. It would only be later on our return that the wind whipped snow into our faces.

It was like walking into one of those winter wonderlands, our approach to the forest and the atmosphere white with thickly falling snow. We wore our jacket snowhoods so between the four of us we were well prepared for the weather, and it was beyond pleasant, with an intriguing air of mystery thrown in for good measure, inviting us to forge on, one with the landscape, immersed in a snow bubble.

Jackie and Jillie were delighted. They're always happy to be out on the trails, and this time was no different. They romped about after one another, and had competitive races and made the most of this opportunity to dance about in the snow. Going off trail meant dipping into the deeper snow and they came away, legs well dusted with snow sticking to their hair. Invariably, when Jackie is deep in snow he tends to shove his muzzle into the magic flakes that immediately coat his face and he acquires a quite remarkable beard in the process.

We did come across a few others with their dogs. Sheila, with her three Border Collies -- and that chance encounter led to a bit of a brief but nice run for all five dogs.

Understandable to a degree, since it's human nature to value the predictable familiar, people seem inclined to perpetuate what they're comfortable with, like certain routines, offering a type of certainty in life's small expectations. With dog companionship and the emotional attachments related to that state of cross-species relations, people similarly tend to be faithful to the breed they've become attached to.

We've done that, and we've seen that same type of choice in so many other people. Take Kyra, for example, a very small miniature schnauzer whom we would often come across over the years, during our daily rambles in the woods. She really was a small fuzzball of energy. She loved her tennis ball and usually her people brought it along for her during their trail walks. Which weren't very extensive, just a short jaunt beyond the street they lived on adjacent the ravine. It wasn't the ravine itself they would access, but the more limiting forested heights.

They would let Kyra's ball roll down a modest hillside and Kyra would delightedly race speedily after it, her little legs scattering in all directions until she reached the ball and brought it triumphantly back up to the path. You could tell Kyra was around even if you hadn't yet seen her; she had a high pitched little exclamatory voice that reflected her excitement. And she became excited when she came across people, wanting to be noticed and never was she disappointed.

Now there's Tim-bits, another very small Schnauzer, a boy this time, a trifle larger and even fluffier than Kyra. He, like her, is a veritable fury of constant movement and excited discoveries. When he sees Jackie and Jillie he speeds directly toward them, bounces off them, veers about inviting them to join him in his exuberant dashes. And trailing a long, orange rope. I mean long, really long. This is his human companions' idea of giving him his own space, yet maintaining a vigil lest he happen to wander too far. It's a puzzling decision to make but they reason he's only 7 months old and needs protection.

It's a potentially dangerous thing to do since if he gets out of their sight and the rope winds around a tree trunk or anything similar he could conceivably choke. A harness, instead of attaching the rope to his collar, might help. As it is, the rope gets wound around anyone he's interested in while he races around and around in his delight to see them. Other dogs get captured by the rope and constantly Tim-bits and anyone or anything else caught in the orbit of his 'net' has to be rescued from the winding mess he's made of the rope. It is much, much longer than any retractable leash.

In any event, yesterday was another good day to be out; damp but mild at two degrees above freezing with no particular wind of any note. In the forest it's cooler than it is out on the street; the accumulated snowpack is deeper and in the depths of the ravine the atmosphere tends to be cooler. On Sundays more people tend to be out and about than on weekdays, for obvious reasons. And everyone is there for their own purposes, mostly for the visual beauty and the comfort felt by those who appreciate nature, to be in that setting landscaped by the ultimate authority.

The forest trails have no end of use. Decades ago we used to haul our granddaughter through the trails on a little sled every morning when she got too heavy to be carried in a backpack. She eventually graduated to learning how to walk along on her own and that turned out to be useful. For teaching balance, for example, and an automatic response to the trail clues; what should be avoided and how to walk over tree roots, rocks, slippery areas, that kind of thing. Apart from awakening in a child an awareness of the natural world.

People use the trails for a variety of recreational uses. Some older children use parts of the trails as shortcuts. Some people take a traditional yearly fall stroll through parts of the woods. The diehard hikers allow no weather to deter them from their purpose to get out on the trails each day to walk their companion pets (one man used to walk a cat alongside his dog years ago, another man had a ferret he used to take for short leashed walks). Often there are children of all ages accompanying their parents on occasional walks that don't descend into the ravine; these children are generally of two types; the emerging nature lovers and the whiny-bored, disinterested.

On occasion some people try to enter the woods on snowmobiles, but the reception they get is geared to impress on them the fact their antics aren't appreciated (besides which there's a bylaw they're defying) and in winter skis and snowshoes are commonly seen, when newfallen snow has produced the right conditions for both. Sometimes people try to push sturdy strollers through the trails, but they don't get very far. Far more useful are sleds to haul young children along the trails, and when they're older, to teach them how to negotiate the hills themselves.

We come across enthusiastic runners on occasion, and bicyclists in all seasons, albeit much fewer in winter. They're not interested in viewing and being in a natural surrounding, for them it's the physical challenge, the speed, the danger, the difficulty that arouses their interest. Yesterday we came across two young men riding (rather uphill-pushing initially) two bicycles the likes of which we'd never before seen. Their tires resembled those of motorcycles. They were huge, they were fat, they were quite impressive, and the men riding them had complete confidence in their ability to negotiate any kind of demanding terrain with them. Jackie and Jillie didn't appreciate these strange monsters in their midst one bit.

But because it was a mild day, heavily overcast but yet with occasional glimpses of sun, people felt impelled to get out into the woods to amble about on the trails, and though we didn't see too many about, there were enough to convince anyone that this treasure of an urban forest is appreciated by if not a significant proportion of the community, enough to justify its upkeep, such as it is. On the practical side, its other municipal justification is that the creek running through the ravine also acts as a storm runoff, protecting the entire community from flooding.

Today's ravine walk under pewter skies

Our small twin devils are obviously healthy. Which explains why their haircoat grows so incredibly quickly. Because it's winter and cold out in the forest where we hike about daily we thought it best just to let their hair grow longer than usual, to keep them warm. Trouble is, when they're out and about without boots the long hair growing in the interstices of their paws between the pads attracts the snow and as they run about it gets packed down, turns into ice and becomes uncomfortable on their little paws.

On our return home we enter the laundry room from the garage, hoist them up on the laundry machines with a towel over top and drown their little paws in warm water to melt the snow and ice and remove any salt from the road they may have picked up. But if their paws are kept well trimmed of hair this won't happen. Besides which, their faces become so hairy when left untrimmed that you can scarcely see their eyes.

Jackie, barely visible on the kitchen floor; little wonder I sometimes stumble into him...

They're black and hard to photograph. Because they're black and there is no contrast to bring out details they just come out blurs, very unattractive. And when I've allowed their hair to grow too long they also become a little shapeless. Their natural shape is much increased by the layer of outgrown hair. They become little fluffy cushions with silky black hair. They cannot be overlooked in the snow, mind, because then the contrast is so great; sheer black-on-white.

Jackie (left) and Jillie, yesterday before their haircuts this morning....

But this morning I decided I'd go ahead and proceed with the dratted haircutting. I detest doing it just as much as they hate being trapped into my clutches with a roster of various-sized scissors just waiting to have a go at the poor little innocents. Jillie is more patient than Jackie throughout the process, but neither is what one could describe as compliant, let alone helpful.

But it's done now, they've both had haircuts and you can actually see their faces, and their melancholy little eyes, no longer peering through their matted head-hair.

There we are, haircuts established, and they've got bright little eyes after all!

Since the extreme cold conditions have moderated, with the advent of a new front bringing in more reasonable temperatures, we've had days of light snow flurries and very damp atmospheres. With the wind, sharp and persistent, even temperatures of -2C such as we had yesterday seem cold, but compared to previous weeks, entirely tolerable. With the added bonus that there's no need to pull those almost useless Muttlucks on Jackie and Jillie.

We were headed down the first hill into the ravine yesterday when behind us at bursting speed of high enthusiasm came a black Labrador Retriever known to our two. They felt pretty exuberant, all three of them, racing back and forth, up and down the trail, as we made our own way down. At one point, Jackie in an excess of enthusiasm, leaped up onto one of my legs behind the calf and before I knew it, I was sprawling on my back, on the snow.

My first impression was that I felt Jackie's little body under me as I fell and so that was instantly concerning, but as it happened I only glanced him thank heavens, and he was fine. So was I, the accumulated snow soft and giving, sheltering me from harm. It felt, in fact, quite pleasant, the way one recalls when as a child, plopping down on snow to produce a snow angel the snow embrace you. The man behind us called out are you all right? and since I lifted myself immediately he had the answer to his question. And on we forged.

It turned out to be a real dog day in the winter forest. All dogs seem to love the snow, wanting to revel in its presence, actually bathe in it. We came across one person after another known to us from long acquaintance and short in the ravine with their dogs. A guarantee that all of the dogs that day had more than enough exercise racing after one another. After the Lab there was Benjie the Bernese Mountain dog, just a year and a half old and happy as a lark, and then two lovely Irish Setters followed by a pair of Sheltie/Beagle mixes.

The landscape was peerless, after all those snow flurries. Though the sky was overcast there was a glow on the snowpack that shimmered and deepened the white to an indescribable buttery glowing shade, made all the more remarkable seen from a distance. All of our rambles in the woods are remarkable in some way, there is always something to catch our interest, something that seems to stand out demanding notice. It's ample reason not to miss our daily outings if we can manage not to.

It's unquestionably correct, with not a scintilla of doubt that the folk wisdom holding that the elderly must be protected from extreme weather conditions as they are less able to withstand those temperature extremes that come with summer and winter -- that icy cold is felt more by those in their elder years than others. This I know from personal experience, let alone the constant alerts from the medical community that the elderly and those suffering from medical conditions -- often one and the same -- should take extra precautions heading out into frigid, windy, ice-slick weather.

In our eighties we now dress with more care than formerly, when we anticipate long periods of exposure to the elements. Mind, if weather conditions are really gravely threatening we exert a little bit of common sense and remain indoors, for the most part. Those are the days that are generally rare throughout most winter seasons, but which this year have presented far more often in a peculiarly Arctic winter this 2017/18 season.

But there are always exceptions to what we consider generalizations. There is Max, for example, a decade and more younger than us, Swiss-born, who ventures out irrespective of the weather clad only in a long-sleeved white shirt with a light red windbreaker thrown over it. His only concession to the biting wind and cold is a toque and warm mittens, but he strides along, ski pole in either hand, cheeks fiery-red, his neck carelessly exposed to the weather, as though his epidermis is comprised of steel defying the cold to penetrate. Cheerful and resolute, he forges his way along the trails at a pace we wouldn't even attempt now to emulate.

Yesterday, though the temperature had risen to -6C, the wind relatively slight though it was, paired with a high humidity level, slapped against our exposed faces as we ambled along the forest trails. It was 'mild' enough not to have to pull their winter boots over our two little companion dogs' tiny feet to protect them from excess cold.

Because it seemed the extremely frigid weather we'd been exposed to for far too long of late had relented, we saw far more people out than would normally be the case; the day before we had come across no one else on the trails. There was a fit-in-appearance grandfather with grandson in tow, sledding down hills in the ravine. And there was a young family of four who had just moved into the neighbourhood and whom we'd never before seen. As we came abreast and greeted one another, the little boy stayed close to his father while trying to persuade Jackie and Jillie he'd make a perfect play-companion.

As for me, I was struck by the youthful natural beauty of the child's mother, her wonderful smile and obvious happiness. I was so focused on her face it took me a while to realize that a tiny baby was nestled within her winter jacket. I apologized for the noise our puppies were making, concerned it would waken her baby, but she laughed and said that for the first weeks of her baby's life she had remained in hospital and as a result was so accustomed to sounds around her at all times that no amount of noise would disturb her sleep.

I was, in fact, entranced by this young woman's appearance. Her wide open smile matched by her expressive eyes, her obvious joy with life, her appreciation for everything she had, encompassing everything she was surrounded with in nature. We indulged in the usual small talk, and finally parted, leaving that little nuclear family free to explore the forested ravine that they had entered for the very first time. As we left, I thought back to our own early days as parents of three small children and the constant exposure they had experienced to nature when we took them to various natural settings when the Ontario government was just beginning to set up conservation areas around Toronto fifty years ago.

They're fraternal twins, born in a litter of only two. Perhaps that accounts for their size. Registered as toy poodles they bear little resemblance in size to toys. They're the size of miniature poodles but bear all the personality characteristics of toy poodles, the most annoying one of which is their propensity to being averse to the presence of other dogs. The very presence of another dog, even at a far distance is enough to get them snarling, barking and carrying on in the most hostile manner. It's embarrassing at the least, and represents a potential physical threat to our two little incorrigibles should a large dog ever take real umbrage; for the most part, the dogs we come across n the ravine are very forgiving.

And those that Jackie and Jillie have become familiar with have also become their distant friends. The usual tactic is that Jillie, the lead instigator, will run ahead barking shrilly at the 'interloper' in 'her' forest and Jackie, the follower, will take up the rear, barking more emphatically with his deeper masculine sound (for a toy), both unheeding to our demands to return to us. Return they do eventually, in a scramble of a rush when the dog they've been harassing is fed up and decides to run for them.

They're basically little housedogs, those two, uninterested in being outside if we're not accompanying them in the backyard. But go out with them on the coldest, most miserable of days and they're ecstatic viewing the snow, leaping about in a frenzy of joyful happiness that they're out, the cold and the snow motivating them to scamper acrobatically all over the backyard in hot pursuit of one another, stopping from time to time to come to face with one another so they can lift themselves to a two-legged standing position and engage in a bout of boxing and wrestling.

When we suit them up for a walk in the ravine on these excessively cold days they've got to wear those irksome boots, otherwise their tiny feet would freeze them to the spot. Both we and they hate the process of drawing on the boots and securing them adequately, but once they're out in the ravine on the forest trails they become rambunctiously oblivious of the boots, thinking they're superdog able to leap impossible heights with gay abandon. That gay abandon and the heights to which they can reach sometimes loosens the boots and off they come, then have to be refitted, not an activity kind to bare hands in -17C weather.

But there we were, on our daily mission to touch base with raw nature in the wind and the cold as usual yesterday, with occasional snow dustings sandwiched between a wan winter sun, while making our way along the trails affording us the opportunity we so value to appreciate the wonderful landscape revealed before us as we progressed, they sniffing mightily at the usual doggy signposts to gain information on which of their familiar acquaintances had been out on the trails before them.