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.