Despite that we place so much value on our daily sprints into the ravine descending to the forest floor and attaining the trails that we've become so familiar with over the years, there are times when that energy expenditure even with its numerous rewards seem a bit too much to contemplate. I used to wonder how long we'd be able to make the most of that superb piece of nature at our disposal.

When we were in our early 70s I imagined a time when it might become too difficult for us to manage the constant ascents and descents in inclement weather, and when conditions underfoot became too iffy, but here we are a decade later and not much has changed. What has changed is that we lost our original two little companion dogs and now have others.

And those others, like their predecessors not only look forward to accompanying us daily into the forest to be intrigued by all manner of attractions familiar to canines and unknown to humans, but we're acutely aware of their need to be exposed to those conditions to be kept healthy and alert and engaged full-throttle in life.

I'd also thought idly from time to time of having a housecleaning service like so many of our neighbours do, to look after the drudgery of cleaning the house. The thing of it is, I don't consider it drudgery and I don't mind doing the cleaning, and I wouldn't be comfortable bringing someone in to clean up after us. Reason enough to do it myself.

It does take time, however, even when the tasks are broken up so that some are done on alternate days while a full house-cleaning takes place on one particular day. Yesterday was that day, and it took three and a half hours to get done. Mind, from time to time I break away from the task at hand and diddle away some time doing other things that interest me before returning to cleaning.

When the house is fully cleaned -- dusted, mopped, vacuumed, floors washed -- then it's time for our ramble in the ravine and Jackie and Jillie know the drill. All the physical hints that tell them it's time for us to make a break for the out-of-doors animate them and they excitedly await preparation. It was cold, overcast and windy yesterday.

At a temperature of -8C, they needed rubber booties, warm coats and so did we before we could set off. But set off finally, we did, in the knowledge that the temperature would soon drop again before rising overnight and giving us a snowstorm through the night. When a snowstorm rages through the night, if I wake at some early morning hour and peek at the bedroom window, the stained glass is fully illuminated; the snow swirling outside serves to brighten the atmosphere which in turn lights up the window.

And that window my husband designed and created copying one of A.Y. Jackson's famous Algonquin Park landscapes in a storm. Not a winter storm, mind, but a storm nonetheless.