Nature seemed to go out of her way to treat us with an abundance of weather scenarios on our afternoon walk yesterday. Tempestuous, if nothing else. Just one of those days when indecision struck and weather patterns were erratic in the extreme, but of course, there's nothing 'reasonable' or 'normal' where nature is involved.

We never quite know what we'll come across when we venture into the ravine, nature's very special precincts and ours -- along with other people fortunate enough to live close by wedded to the concept of our natural surroundings having a profound effect on our well-being and tending to make the most of the experience of immersing themselves within it temporarily -- to spend some quality time in admiration of the landscape before us.

It's an absolute must, of course, for our two little dogs. They may not evince much enthusiasm when we begin to accoutre them for the weather so they won't freeze on the forest trails, but once out there, their joy is unbounded. In fact, they bound effortlessly in their little rubber boots on frozen trails unaware that without those boots their paws would soon freeze up and so would they.

We happened yesterday to come across another little poodle, this one fairly new to the experience and making the most of it. Still a puppy, under a year old, this little fellow's happy antics in the snow quite resembled how Jackie and Jillie disported themselves constantly years ago when they were young as they rampaged through the scenery in an excess of enthusiastic joy at exposure to all the experiences and adventures that life had in store for them.

In their maturity they've become a tad sanguine, but never to the point where they fail to appreciate fully how it feels to be imbued with a sense of freedom and happiness roaming about to their hearts' content, investigating here and there, sniffing for signals, awaiting the arrival of acquaintances and greeting any who do materialize with unalloyed glee.

In the space of the hour that we delved into the ravine and made our way along well-tracked forest trails we experienced the sight of an overhead sun illuminating patches of deep snow where its rays manage to penetrate through the winter canopy absent foliage. These emerging sun triumphs were speedily followed by fierce flurries, however briefly, and a wind that howled through the forest canopy.

Those gale-bursts of wind intermittently interrupting the sun created white-outs as the branches and boughs of snow-laden trees bending and swaying to the thrust of the wind, surrendered their snow burdens, the wind lifting the snow and scattering it throughout the atmosphere, veiling sightlines in an almost opaque blur of white.

So we had a swift succession of a still atmosphere with the sun gleaming brightly followed by an uptick in wind roaring through the trees releasing their abundance of snow, and then calm, where flurries resumed, and this succession of events kept repeating throughout the time we spent on our leisure trek through the trails on a day where the high registered -10C, and night would bring us -26C with ongoing wind.

Evidently, seized with what is called by climatologists a 'polar vortex' the U.S. Midwest is undergoing some extreme cold weather conditions. As for us here in the great frozen North we have apparently set a record for the month of January in snowfall (97 cm thus far), though looking about here one might never guess so. The last record snowfall conditions for January in Ottawa was set in 1999 (at 93 cm), so we've beat a two-decade-old record.

From the total accumulation on peoples' lawns and on the forest floor and upon the walkways of its bridges you'd never know, though, that much snow has fallen. And that's because the month ricocheted between extreme icy temperatures and more moderate ones that brought rain and freezing rain rather than snow, melting the pack from time to time and diminishing its presence. Not that we don't have a considerable snowpack, but nothing like my memory serves up of past winters when the height of the snow on our lawns almost rivalled my own height.

Yesterday there was an all-day snowfall again from the night before, on into the morning hours to continue throughout the afternoon as well as the evening. It was also quite cold, with the daytime high of -10C, and thankfully, little wind to exacerbate the cold. After our ravine walk in the early afternoon, we went out to do our weekly grocery shopping, leaving Jackie and Jillie moaning and whining and emitting soft howls of anguish, poor darlings.

They know where we're going, and the routine is so well established in their memories that they anticipate our return with edible goodies, but in the interval between they mourn the misfortune of being on their own in the familiar comfort and warmth of the house, in our absence. That there are two of them, sibling-companions accustomed to playing together and knowing they are not alone doesn't serve to comfort them one iota.

When we do return though, the excitement! The emotion! And once the leaps and the yips have been commenced with and finally completed their attention is riveted to what we've brought back with us in four large carriers set on the kitchen floor waiting to be emptied. Any broccoli, lettuce, snap peas, cauliflower, celery and other like greens are instantly leaped upon, gnawed into manageable bits to be relished before we're able to rescue and refrigerate them.

On our drive to the nearby supermarket we tend to frequent, the condition of the roads we accessed, starting with our own was pretty deplorable. Ice-covered and flush with dirty piles of snow not yet plowed as the municipality tries to respond to the ongoing snow situation. It's hard to imagine anyone attempting to negotiate their way under such road conditions without having snow- or ice-tires on their vehicles; an absolute must for safe driving conditions in this geography.

Once at the parking lot my husband realized that we had a flat tire. Nothing in the steering had alerted him to that fact, but there it was, the right front-tire deflated. I went in to the supermarket to begin the shopping and he remained out in the snowy cold to inflate what he took to be a slow leak. He always carries a small electric pump in the trunk of the car, so it took little time to re-inflate the tire and he soon joined me inside.

When we had finished shopping and returned to the car there was no sign the tire was deflating again, but my husband's assessment of a slow leak was obviously accurate, and he began to make plans in his mind to take the car in to the service station he usually uses, as soon as possible. Another little drama in another day. We never know when we awake to face the coming day what lies in store. A nuisance to be sure, but far more of one if it had been a flat tire requiring that the tire be changed in those weather conditions.

Our two rascally poodles now appear congenitally dishevelled, day by day growing increasingly so as their haircoat, as healthy little dogs, grows exponentially into a shaggy version of what a little poodle should look like. They last were groomed back in late November. And didn't they look svelte and elegant then? I'm pleased with the professional grooming, relieving me of decades of attempting to groom our little dogs, requiring endless patience, time and care. I was never able to achieve anything resembling a smooth haircut for them and it took no time for their hair to grow back unevenly. Done by professionals their groomed appearance is lasting and very much appreciated.

Nothing resembling how they now appear. We had scheduled a grooming for them, anticipating that this would be a 'normal', snowy, cold winter in Ottawa, for early February. In the knowledge that by then their appearance would resemble that of miniature woolly mammoths. But taking into account the fact that they roam about in a forested landscape for an hour and more daily regardless of the amount of snow, the wind and the cold, we figured they'd be better off shaggy and warm than groomed and miserable.

Just as well their next appointment is next week. And then we can struggle with the feelings of guilt overcoming us as we and they become exposed to the elements of early February, hoping that we've piled enough doggy garments atop their newly-shorn hair to maintain a level of comfort. In any event, their hair tends to grow in swiftly, so if they do miss the insulating qualities of their former comfort level it will only be temporary. And so will the occurrence of icy wind and snow as winter begins to wind down.

As it was we missed our stroll through the winter forest trails yesterday. We just thought it to be a trifle too cold for any of us to venture out, with whipping winds and a high temperature of -18C. Yes, the sun was out and while it warmed our house interior, gleaming its rays through our windows, it did nothing whatever for the ambient atmosphere.

The day before, on Sunday, the high was a reasonable -8C, and even with a wind, it seemed comfortable enough when we were out for our afternoon hike in the woods. The eye-dazzling spectacle of the snow-blanketed woods illuminated by broad shafts of sunlight making their way through the screen of trees is always magnificent to behold, and when we catch glimpses of the sun, a brilliant disk of penetrating light perched between dark tree trunks the sight becomes fantastically surreal.

Truly, I had nothing whatever to do with it, though thoughts of sabotage occasionally have flickered through my mind. And I must admit that when my husband informed me yesterday that his bread maker was kaput, I didn't at all mind, offering to bake a bread by hand, instead. He enjoys making bread with that machine. I don't have much regard for it, myself. He'd mentioned he planned to bake a fresh egg loaf for dinner, which was when I suggested I do it, instead.

He demurred, he is always so gung-ho about experimenting with that bread machine. And then he discovered that something had happened to the screw that holds the paddle in place. It was no longer in a fixed position, but loose and useless. His face grew dark, mine brightened, and I said, never fear, mother is here.

So I set about assembling the ingredients required and in no time at all put together a bread dough for the very kind of bread he was hankering to bake himself. I prepared the dough to rise, and we prepared Jackie and Jillie for an afternoon walk in the forest.

A cold day at -10C, with a blustery wind, but a wide open sky and a brilliant sun, so off we set. It didn't appear to us that it was any colder than the day before when it was -4C, but accompanied by an even worse wind. That changed as we got closer to the conclusion of our circuit yesterday, when the wind really began making headway through our winter jackets, and several sweaters layered underneath.

Jackie and Jillie were layered with winter jackets and sweaters too, along with their boots and they didn't appear to be suffering any cold; it seems to invigorate them, particularly when there's new snow, not yet tramped down on the trails. We saw a few other people out with their dogs, and that's the thing about dogs, they all adore the snow. One shaggy-coated large black fellow we're familiar with and came across yesterday was literally digging himself into the snowbanks, in an ecstasy of pleasure. Jackie has been known to thrust his little maw into snow, but that's about as far as he'll commit, sensibly enough.

First thing we do on arrival back home is get those boots off their little feet, in fear of their being too constrictive. Then off come the layers of clothing, and they're free of constraints. They usually head directly for the refrigerator. Awaiting their lettuce leaf, a leaf that just about as large as they are which they're eager to devour. How strange is that?

And I set about punching down the dough, determining that there was a tad too much for one loaf pan, so made a smaller one to take up the extra, let them rise, and then baked them. And so, there was fresh bread for the dinner table.

And the bread machine? It's fixed. Irving went directly down to his workshop, where he has assembled all manner of bits and pieces and parts of things with the expectation that one day they'd all come in handy. Well, something did on this occasion as it invariably does on so many others. The bread machine is now once again operational. Sigh.

We couldn't decide whether Jackie and Jillie needed their rubber boots yesterday. Morning had brought snow flurries. The temperature by the time we were prepared to venture out for a forest walk had risen to -4C, and the sky had completely cleared. Normally, our small puppies' paws are able to withstand temperature lows of up to -6, but not when there is loose snow, only when the trails are hard packed.

Since there was also the presence of a substantial wind factor that required me to use the hood on my jacket to keep my face from freezing, we decided for their boots. Pulling them on to tiny feet requires some coordination between us. I've got to try to hold their little legs rigid enough so that my husband can slip each one over a paw and ensure no toes are being pinched or pulled back. Irving has perfected his technique. I can't even pull the boot rims wide enough pulling each between two fingers to slip them over those wee paws.

Our driveway and the street in front of the house were both cleared of snow, though a thin layer of snow always results, and over it another layer -- of ice when weather conditions bounce back and forth from moderate to icy. Because of the morning snow flurries, that ice was covered with a light layer of snow; sometimes that works to make the icy surface below less slippery, sometimes it's the opposite, depends on the nature of the snow, whether it's wet or dry. It was dry, and we slithered down the drive even with cleats strapped over our boots, and onto the road where conditions were just the same.

The municipal plow had come by some time last night to widen the street and push back the banks of accumulated snow, and in so doing had created a higher barrier between the road and the ravine entrance. We maneuvered our way around the group mailbox to thread through to the trail tromping through the snow build-up, and Jackie and Jillie took over from that point, racing downhill to the large old pine sitting between the fork in the trail and the creek below.

The sun, of course, doesn't penetrate too deeply past the tree canopy. It tends to fire up the tree line in a bright halo of blazing yellow-orange, giving colour to an otherwise black-and-white landscape. Capturing the sun blinking its brilliance through the trees is always a delight. There is so much variance on light and shades of colour depending on weather conditions we can never be assured what kind of landscape we'll be greeted with, but it's the rare-to-non-existent occasion when we aren't impressed by nature's choreography.

The wind was determined to turn the sun's warmth and the moderate temperature into a stark resemblance of an icy winter day. We could hear it roaring high above through the canopy, its presence somewhat less emphatic at ground level, but enough so to lash through our bodily defences from time to time.

Just as we ascended the last hill to reach street level when we completed our circuit, we came across a woman who asked what the conditions were like below, and at our assurance, she resumed her descent. With her was a bashful, lovely little white dog dressed in a winter coat. The woman had mentioned to us that the little dog was blind. It puzzled us that she made no effort to ensure its safety by using a harness and a leash.

When our little miniature Poodle-Pomeranian mix Button had become blind in her 18th year, we never failed to take her for daily walks in the ravine in all seasons. But we did have her wear a harness and took care to ensure she didn't encounter difficulties by having her on leash where we could gently guide her away from falls or unpleasant encounters with immovable objects.

She had learned to negotiate her way around obstacles in the house, and knew where everything was, to be avoided. It was entirely different on exterior walks in the forest, however. She lived to 19 years and four months.

So now, cold and snowy Ottawa so recently struggling to live up to its reputation as the world's second coldest, snowiest national capital in November wondering where all the snow was, and then December arrived and we experienced a succession of freeze-and-thaws, and finally January and it seems we're finally now acquiring the usual accumulation of snow that we are familiar with for an Ottawa winter. With that snow comes incredible beauty.

With that snow comes incredibly irritating consequences. Primarily shovelling oneself out of the snow to permit access and egress to one's home. It's a challenge. On snowy days like Wednesday when the snow continued throughout the morning, afternoon and evening, as soon as shovelling is done the wind and the blowing snow simply join forces to ensure that the snow reappears where you'd just created some space.

When we arrived at the entrance to the ravine yesterday afternoon we were more than pleased to notice that enough other people had been out to forge a decent trail, unlike the day before when we were mostly breaking trail ourselves. Before we got to that point, though, there was a bit of a blip caused by the snow plows clearing off the street and dumping piles of snow at the access point from street to ravine entrance.

The need to clamber over the newly-created snow-'gate' is a familiar one. Once enough people have taken that route the hills blocking access will be less prominent -- unless a following snowstorm occurs, which means it will gradually build to challenging proportions. No challenge for Jackie and Jillie, however, and off we went. Off they went, scampering excitedly down into the ravine, we following.

The howling winds of the day before had raked most of the snow from the forest trees, but enough yet remained that the enchanting aspect of a snow-covered forest was still visible, ornamenting the landscape. The high for the day was -3C, with just a slight wind, so the atmosphere was comfortable and the newly-trodden trails nicely negotiable without too much trouble.

Although at one point when we'd climbed one of the hills, resting for a bit at its crest before continuing on, a younger woman with a spunky little terrier hauled herself up that same hill, huffing and puffing, commenting how difficult it was to ascend with the new layers of snow. Actually, it was the day before, when the snow was falling thickly, when it was difficult to clamber up that hill, since for every step forward we slid backward until finally achieving the top.

She was the only other person we came across, and her little dog had a bit of a playtime with Jackie and Jillie before we parted company going off in different directions. We knew, given the moderate day and the allure of the snowy woods that many others would be out before the day was over, taking the opportunity to enjoy this wonderful natural resource bisecting our community.

Our trek in the ravine along the heavily-snowed forest trails yesterday was nothing less than arduous. It was also entrancing. Plowing through the accumulated snow -- in the last week alone 50 cm of new snow had fallen - was quite the challenge. Particularly in places where we had to break trail. Even where a scant few others had been out before us, the scant trail they left behind was soon filled in, given the quantity of snow continuously falling all the while yesterday.

When we looked about us at the scenes constantly unfolding as we trudged uphill, along the major ridge in the forest and then downhill again, we did so through an evanescent veil of scintillating snow. The evergreens, large and small, were so burdened their branches hung low with the weight in beautiful arabesques. The wind, though light, exerted just enough pressure at times to loosen heavy layers of snow from their perch on boughs to send them cascading in a seemingly-slow choreograph from branch to forest floor.

The snow served to muffle all sound, and the environment seemed still beyond belief. Jackie and Jillie had no difficulty whatever manoeuvring their way about, despite the snow depth. And that depth didn't persuade them at any given time from venturing deeper, beyond the trail into copses of trees, to quench their curiosity over what might conceivably lie there, concealed but alluring, under the snowpack.

It really is hard to describe how exquisitely lovely everything appears in a forest being bathed in white, light coverlets of snow, how the trunks of trees become festooned with dappled layers of snow, how the entire landscape is softly mounded and rounded over in a pristine comforter nature has sent to ensure the comfort of all growing matter sheltering deep in the earth over winter.

Small forest creatures are also comforted by layers of snow which serve to insulate their burrows and nests from extreme cold levels. When snow reaches the depths that have now obtained, discretion is required; small mammals like chipmunks and squirrels know how vulnerable they are, attempting to make their way through the snow at such a depth, confining themselves to their nests or moving about through the trees as an alternative. Birds of prey and other ground carnivores make the most of those opportunities when movement is hampered for the prey they seek out, from voles and mice to squirrels.

Deep snow disadvantages large animals in the very same way, hampering the speed of their progress, and in slowing them down making them vulnerable to the attacks of coyotes and wolves eager to dine on deer, and particularly fawns. Porcupines, beaver and raccoons can pretty well look after themselves with the defences nature has given them against predators.

It's been a busy day so far in terms of energy expenditure. Another snowstorm hard on the heels of the last one that dumped in excess of 20 cm a few days back. This one began last night, continued on into the day and is slated to wear itself out by this evening. In the meanwhile, it looks as though it will exceed the previous snowfall, since we've already received the predicted amount for the entire snowfall.

After breakfast my husband went out to clear the snow from the top of the steel canopy on the deck. It was a very Canadian type of folly to erect it there to begin with. But he was tired of replacing those canvas canopy tops every three or four years and thought that this then-new product with its aura of permanence would be a good choice. And so we've been living with the winter consequences for the past four years. The manufacturer, to cover itself from any complaints or lawsuits had printed a discreet little message on the box the thing came in to the effect that should more than six inches of snow accumulate on the top, it should be removed to prevent collapse.

So, any time there's a build-up that's what has to be done, and it's a right royal pain, all the more so since it sits atop the deck which is itself about six feet off the ground and since it fits so snugly on the deck floor there's no room for manoeuvring on two sides. The problem was finally solved with a telescoping shovel that can be used to rake the snow off the metal 'roof' from ground level. But of course it's work and hard on the arms. It's not the kind of thing I can do, but I did my share of shoveling the walkways at the side of the house, the front and the back, over my husband's objections.

And then we huddled in consultation with one another; should we make an effort to go out to the ravine with Jackie and Jillie despite the new buildup of snow on the trails that was still continuing? We decided we would do just that, figuring we'd go as far as we could and when the going got too tough we'd just cut our circuit short. The snow was deep and not many had been out before us to break trail, despite which, wearing their little boots our puppies enthusiastically trooped their way through with no trouble, and soon began to resemble little snowdogs.

As for us, straining uphill was a challenge; the snow in its thick presence on the uphill clamber giving us the opportunity to experience that famous dance; two steps forward, one step back, as we slid and alternately found purchase on this new, challenging, changeable surface. We did come across three young people on separate occasions, one on snowshoes, the other two walking their own companion dogs and doing as we were, drinking in the delicious atmosphere and the delightful landscape before us.

The snow came down thick and heavy, rendering an opaque quality to the atmosphere, with the dancing, shimmering snow emphasizing the exquisite beauty surrounding us. Jackie and Jillie ran back and forth, picking up the new snow on their hairy little legs, and acquiring an exterior coating of bright white fluff over their head ruffs and waterproof winter jackets. Physical challenge aside where their little legs were almost obscured in the snow at times, nothing slowed them down.

When we finally did return home after our tramp through the forest ridge with its ascents and descents it took some time for us to brush the snow off our little charges, and warm-water-wash the icy balls hanging from their outgrown hair, then dry them. It's a ritual they've long become accustomed to, just as they persevere when their boots are being pulled over their little feet to protect them from the icy cold on the forest floor. We tell them their patience is commendable; in response they shrug modestly.