There are those days when we go through the entire trail system on our circuit through the forest when we see no one else around and about. And those days when before we even get to the entrance of the ravine, we come across various of our neighbours, mostly on the way to or from the group mailbox located adjacent the ravine entrance, and just stand about on the snow and ice, talking neighbourhood things.

Today was one of those days. Our next-door neighbour, at a time of year when people venture out of doors mostly to shovel up after snowfalls and to get into their vehicles to go somewhere, and on their return go directly into their homes, happened to be at the mailbox. We spoke about his son's futile attempts to find the kind of employment he really had his heart set on. It's his opinion that in interviews his son fails to shine, so he's being coached now by a personal friend who does just that for a living.

Another neighbour came along to check his mail, whose son when both neighbours' boys were in their teens, used to play hockey in a team together. They rarely see one another any longer, they've gone their own ways. The second son has also completed his formal education but hasn't been able to determine just what he wants to do with the rest of his life as far as worklife is concerned. Both in their mid-20s, it's a dilemma.

We spoke about more neutral matters; since we were right at the group mailbox what more fitting topic than the less-than-stellar postal service Canadians now receive. As a case in point, the first neighbour mentioned he was getting mail placed in his box that clearly said in the address it should be taken to another group mailbox several streets away. Which fed right into our own complaint, that over the past several weeks quite a few mailed items have gone astray, with our address, but placed in the box of a neighbour.

That conversation, in fact, sparked in me the determination to complain directly to Canada Post Corporation. There was a time when one could dial a number to speak to a living, breathing human being to ventilate about any problems being experienced, and have the assurance that the matter would be resolved. Now, it's all done electronically, and for those people who aren't adept with a computer there is no solution. I did, however, file a complaint in detail.

After which I wrote to the Minister in charge of the Crown Corporation. Not that I expected the missive would reach her, but someone in her office in an administrative capacity would be annoyed to receive it, would respond in neutral bureaucratic language to inform me that my complaint was being forwarded to the appropriate Corporate desk from whence would come a solution. I detailed intrusion into our privacy, as well as late-payment fees imposed on bills not received, let alone the problem of missing an appointment resulting from a communication gone astray.

And then, it was time to venture into the ravine. It would hardly have been surprising to have the forest to ourselves this day, since the trails are just about in the worst shape we've seen them in, this winter. In the sense that the upper layer of snow in many areas has succumbed to the effect of the warming sun and milder temperatures, melting to reveal the thick layers of ice underneath. It has become particularly treacherous on some of the trails leading up and down hills into and out of the ravine.