My sister, four years younger than me and living in Toronto has been legally blind for most of her life. When she was younger she was able to get by a little better; as she aged her eyesight deteriorated. We are all of us in this family, passionate readers. Thank heavens for talking books, for the relief they offer to people like my sister. I would be devastated without the sighted acuity enabling me to read the printed word.

More latterly the freedom of her physical movement has been complicated by an impaired sciatic nerve. She loves dancing; ballroom, line, country dancing. She and her husband, a Holocaust survivor, have regularly over the years, treasured the opportunity to join recreational groups that focus on ballroom dancing. While her husband has no interest in other forms of dancing, my sister is devoted to them all and goes out of her way, despite pain, to continue attending both dance classes and informal dance opportunities.

As for my husband and me, we enjoy dancing, but prefer confining ourselves to our own home to indulge in dancing together occasionally to the melodies of the popular music that we vividly recall from the 50s onward. No, for us, physical recreational opportunities represent an urge to immerse ourselves in natural surroundings, and we have the great good fortune to live beside a natural forest preserve in the midst of a neighbourhood community of tens of thousands of people privileged like ourselves to easy access to this natural treasure.

And as is usual for us, we were out yesterday afternoon on a cloud-dense day of relenting temperatures in our neighbourhood ravine with our two little dogs. At a high of 4C and little wind to speak of, it was as  usual pleasant to be out on the trails, mucking our way through the melting snow and ice that continues to cover the landscape.

We can see, day by day, the gradual shrinking of the snowpack as greater but still relatively insignificant areas within the forest, exposed to the springtime heat of the sun has convinced the snow that it really is time for it to withdraw and to do so completely. So there are downhill areas where the snow has melted down to the ice beneath it, now becoming frozen slush. Slippery and awkward in some places, but presaging the arrival of warmer weather and a total absence of snow and ice.

Our two little dogs nonchalantly enjoy the melting atmosphere which releases all manner of hitherto-trapped aromas for their delectation. Some which are redolent of nature's castoffs in a forest, others far more rude and indicative of the number of companion dogs and other animals that pass through the area. And when they do come across other dogs on the trails, the excitement is infectious, brief encounters that call for short spurts of energy in friendly competitions.