At one time our daughter had the care and responsibility of looking after eleven dogs of all shapes, sizes, breeds. Most were rescue dogs. Some she adopted after caring for them temporarily while they awaited permanent homes, but were never taken into other families. They ranged in size from a  Chihuahua and a toy Pomeranian to a rescue from Nunavut, a cross between a Malamute and a German Shepherd which had been abandoned as a puppy. One of the dogs was a boxer that had been horribly maltreated and that resulted in a lifetime (his) of violent attitudes toward other dogs though he made fast friends with the Chihuahua.

As will happen with dogs, they grow old all too soon. All of the dogs with few exceptions were young when they joined our daughter's household. And her home, of necessity to be enabled to keep so many dogs without violating municipal bylaws, had to be in a country setting, which determined where she would live. As it was she had to take out a special license even then so she could keep them all without coming afoul of any bylaws.

Her home, on just over five acres of land, an old converted log schoolhouse that saw service in the 1860s, since updated to a house, gave ample room for the dogs to roam about freely though they always chose to be indoors unless our daughter was with them. One by one she lost them as they died of old age. She now has just the Chihuahua, elderly and wanting nothing much more than to rest and sleep, and a 13-year-old part German Shepherd slowing down considerably.

They visited with us last Saturday and that was the first of three days in succession that we found ourselves locked out of a ravine walk. Our daughter's dog Sara had somehow fallen and twisted her hind end in their house of all places a few days earlier and was still in some discomfort. We thought at first she could walk in the ravine on the forest trails on leash, but because the trails were icy, we had to think differently and forgo a walk for that day.

As it happened, the weather continued to give us icy conditions underfoot. The succeeding two days, Sunday and then Monday, saw us forced to take Jackie and Jillie for walks on the street, around the block sort of thing, an exposure that confused them and displeased us, even as an alternative for the opportunity to get some fresh air and a bit of exercise for our limbs. When we'd ventured into the ravine under those unusually icy conditions, it became speedily clear that even the icers over our boots failed to grip the glacial ice deposit on the forest floor, leading us to a speedy exit.

Ah, but last night, finally, there was some snow; not much, just 6cm, but snow withal. And the temperature had risen to zero degrees, although there was a good wind. So we decided, we and our son and Jackie and Jillie to hie ourselves out to the ravine before breakfast to take full advantage of these new conditions and enjoy a long walk through the forest trails, and that's just what we did.

Our rare disappointment of the past several days of being locked out of the forest due to dangerous conditions lifted, and as we hiked along the newly-snowed trails, we heard a raven, made out countless tracks on the fresh snow of various little furred animals, and came across other hiking acquaintances as pleased as we were to be out there in that gorgeous landscape, able to negotiate our way up and down hill with no problems whatsoever.