I enjoy cooking. And baking. And I particularly like casseroles, both making them and eating them. My husband? not so much, unless it's something like a Shepherd's Pie, which I don't often make. I prefer vegetarian casseroles and that speaks volumes about our differences in taste. I wanted to make a casserole on Tuesday because we'd had a meat dinner the night before. I would prefer to use pasta but my husband isn't fond of pasta - unless it's spaghetti and meatballs in a thick tomato sauce.

He suggested helpfully that I might consider replacing the pasta with potato, knowing I could be flirting with the idea of making a macaroni-and-cheese casserole, my favourite. I don't mind at all thinking about variant combinations, so I decided to take his advice. I parboiled a few medium-sized Yukon Gold potatoes, and sliced them quite thinly, placing a layer on the bottom of a casserole dish, then added a cup of frozen green peas to scatter over them. I prepared a white sauce with butter, flour and milk, adding lots of pepper, a teaspoon of dry mustard, and a cup of shredded old cheddar. I poured half of the resulting thick sauce over the green peas, added a tin of pink salmon which I had chopped into pieces, then another layer of potatoes, topping that with the remainder of the sauce, and sprinkled the top with Parmesan Cheese. I enjoyed it, my husband dutifully ate it, prefaced by a fresh vegetable salad and capped with raspberries.

I planned to make spaghetti and meatballs the following day, but my husband expressed a yearning for corned beef. I knew I had one, bought months ago at his bidding, in the freezer. So I cut it in half, then prepared it for Wednesday dinner, along with mashed yam and fresh, sweet asparagus, neither traditionally eaten with corned beef, but I hoped their nutritional goodness would offset the questionable gut value of the corned beef. And then we had strawberries and peaches for dessert.

Today, it'll be a side of baked salmon, again not his favourite fish, but I sprinkle it with a very savoury spice combination to entice his appetite. That, and oven-baked potato chips, and another vegetable salad and sliced peaches for dessert. Usually when we have a fish dinner we cap it off with chunks of cheese (my husband had just bought a large piece of Emmental) , which I really look forward to.

It's still frigid outdoors; when we came down for breakfast this morning the thermometer read -16.7C. But sun was streaming through the house, lighting up the south-east-facing front of the house in a blaze that always makes me think of a theatrical set with frantic overhead lighting. The snow we were supposed to get overnight hadn't materialized. Which, had it fallen, would have helped mitigate the icy conditions underfoot on the road and in the ravine on the forest trails.

When we went out for our daily afternoon hike in the woods with Jackie and Jillie yesterday though the winds lacked their usual bursts of bone-chilling energy and frostbite threat, it seemed even colder than the day before when we were out and it was -16C, while yesterday was supposed to be -11C, but it was overcast and perhaps that made the difference, even at this time of year.

We considered making it a longer walk, but decided against, since by the time we were out a half-hour our faces felt stiff with cold. Jackie and Jillie, though wearing adequate covering and their boots didn't seem to be in much of a bounce-about mood, not much running about for either of them, which is a little unusual, so we decided to cut our ramble short given the frigid conditions.

We came across ample evidence of the force of wind in the forest at one point, where an old dead tree trunk had been toppled just beside the trail. One of its branches had broken off in the fall where the main trunk was off the trail and the branch had hit square on the trail, an obvious mortal threat had anyone been passing by there at the time.

As usual, once we return home and they're comfortable in our nice warm house, they share a boisterous run-about and tussle, then assemble in the kitchen patiently waiting for us to remember to give them their anticipated treat.

We could really use some more snow. In a year when we've already received a record-breaking amount of the white stuff. Either more snow, or a warming atmosphere, tout suite. The simple fact being that here we are in February, approaching March, and while the 'normal' temperature at this time of year is supposed to be -2C, we're frozen in a cold spell that is giving us day-time highs of -15C. That's cold in spades when one factors in the wind. And we've had plenty of that, as well.

We don't particularly want more snow, and would appreciate a warming atmosphere, if for no other reason than to mitigate conditions that have made for glacial surfaces everywhere. We realized, while trying to balance ourselves adequately, safely, to negotiate the inches-ice-thick surface of the road in front of our house leading up to the ravine entrance, that municipal crews had trucked in sand to sprinkle on the road at some unknown time.

Not very much of it, but it helps. The sun was higher on the horizon yesterday and shone brighter and warmer as the season progresses toward spring -- yet still a long way off. That warming sun too helps as it will eventually result in an erosion of that Arctic ice causing dangerous conditions everywhere on ground surfaces. We are, in fact, expecting some snow late this afternoon and if it's of a wet variety -- unlikely given the high of -15C -- it would add a sticking layer of snow over the ice; otherwise if not much snow falls and it's dry, it will simply add to the slippery conditions.

We breathed a huge sigh of relief once we traversed the street and made it safely to the ravine. Where the trails have been well tamped down since the last snowfall, followed by a few milder days and then rain, which resulted in softer conditions making the-then smooth trail erupt with deep depressions here and there, soon afterward freezing solid once again to produce a bit of a treacherous surface that could result in twisted ankles. So more care is required on that too-slippery and dented trail system.

The conditions of extreme cold, whipping wind and cloudless sky gave us a view of a wide, blue heaven above the forest canopy. The contrast of the bright blue against the naked forest profile and the sun's illuminating effect made for a spectacular landscape. Outfitted in sweater, jacket and rubber boots Jackie and Jillie took no mind of the cold, taking full advantage of the opportunity to leap about and race well ahead of us on trails as familiar to them as the interior of the home they share with us.

At one juncture we came across Mad Max, an apricot-coated miniature Poodle, twice the size of Jackie and Jillie and evidently doing just fine without boots or coat. Max is everywhere at once, a bundle of unrestrained energy. He's just two years old and generally the younger the dog the more active, the less aware of discomfort due to cold as long as they're not too small in size. Max is a bit large for a miniature, just as our two are extremely large for toys.

When we parted, newly re-energized, Jackie and Jillie spurted once ahead again, possibly on the lookout for the presence of others of their acquaintance, but none appeared. And little wonder, given the challenge of the cold, wind and icy conditions underfoot. When we arrived home and they were divested of boots and jackets, post-treats and a little round of wrestling, they settled down to enjoy the comfort of the house interior.

Jillie's favourite spot when the sun is full out and blasting its warmth through the sliding glass doors leading from the breakfast room to the deck, is a little bed sitting beside the doors enabling her to soak up the comforting rays. They two, like Button and Riley before them, occasionally agitate to be allowed out to sit or stand on the deck when the sun's out, as needful of vitamin D, one can assume, as we humans to ensure good health.

Engaging with the surface of the street in front of our house and throughout its length has become an exercise in carefully negotiating each square foot of the road to mitigate against a slide and a fall. I had one of those a few months back and it isn't pleasant, nor the outcome to be eagerly anticipated once fallen. The road is slathered thick in glacial ice. Little wonder given the all-day rain event of two days back and the subsequent re-entry since, of Arctic cold.

When we ventured out yesterday afternoon with Jackie and Jillie bundled in their winter coats for a walk on the forest trails, the wind was at our backs and more or less unceremoniously shoved us along. To secure footing, even with our cleat-strapped boots meant that we looked for places where the ice had protrusions and ridges and even some slight bits of snow to ensure our feet didn't slip beyond our control, but we managed to make it up the street to the entrance to the ravine without making violent contact with the icy road.

Once in the ravine the footing improved substantially. Though the trails were somewhat icy, given rain-on-snowpack, and there were ample places where the trodden trail was uneven, we felt far more confidence in our ability to remain upright and to be able to stride briskly along because there was fair purchase on the surface of the trails. The rain of the day before kept us from our usual daily ravine ramble and we were determined despite the continuation of the high winds, to get Jackie and Jillie out for their daily walk in natural surroundings.

It hardly appeared as though the rain had reduced the snowpack noticeably, though there was a slick of ice over the forest floor atop the mounded snow. The sun was out, and it glanced brightly off the ice-slicked hills while above the forest canopy wild wind raged. Looking up at the canopy whenever the sound of the wind increased in a gust of extreme violence, the masts of the trees swayed.

In such conditions it is probably wiser to avoid walking in a forested area. We didn't see much damage other than the collapse of an already-dead tree close to one of the trails, and plenty of woody detritus forced down from above to litter the forest floor. At the time we were out the temperature had risen to -7C, but the ferocity of the wind made it mandatory that we take measures to dress accordingly since such strong winds penetrate winter garments without fail, so underneath layers help immeasurably to stay comfortable.

Halfway through our shortened walk we came across a feisty little Husky, quite in his element, and enjoying both the landscape and its atmosphere. Its joy in being out and its happily boisterous run-abouts were a treat to watch. We've seen him and his companion on several previous occasions, a very social young man who clearly takes great pleasure in his pet's glee at exposure to his breed's natural background in nature.

The sun beaming through the house windows on our return created a warm and comfortable aura. The large windows of this house become an absolute positive during the winter season, inviting and absorbing the sun, in the process warming the house interior. It's a different story at night when high winds prevail and the second story of the house reflects the icy presence of wind on a frigid night. No complaints; it makes for good sleeping.

I had made a small beef roast for dinner, and a Yorkshire pudding, that prince of puddings, along with a mixture of spinach and arugula, with blueberries and sliced peaches for dessert, to help bolster our internal resources with a hot meal of comfort food.

We had decided that after taking Jackie and Jillie out for a ravine walk on a sunny morning/afternoon we would drive downtown to Byward Market for a little shopping expedition. That is to say we would all drive down but my husband would exit the vehicle to visit a few key shops for his updated art magazines and choices at the cheese shop. And then drive a little further to the Rideau Bakery for some truly good rye bread and onion buns. And I would remain behind with Jackie and Jillie. Our usual modus operandi when we agree to take them with us.

It's much more intelligent to leave them at home together where they can be comfortable and sleep off the vigours and rigours of a strenuous run in the ravine. But they sense when we're about to leave them at home, long before we actually put on our boots and our coats. and they behave anxiously, knowing they're not slated to accompany us. This time, they were so stressed about it we decided we'd take them with us. Not a particularly wise decision. They don't travel well in the winter months.

Worse, once we were all installed in the truck, where they're more comfortable seated beside us in the re-arrangement my husband thought up to accommodate them, making a seating 'bridge' between the two bucket seats where they could cuddle, the truck wouldn't start. So we ended up taking the car, not an automatic like the truck and where they are seated in the back and which doesn't drive as smoothly as the truck.

During our ravine walk, a lengthy one to take advantage of a milder temperature than we've been accustomed to these winter days, though the wind does its best to dissipate the moderation of 2C, the sun was full out, brightening the landscape wonderfully. Then there was a surprisingly swift transition of an absolutely clear sky to one that was fast accumulating a dense cloud cover, so by the time we exited the forest the sun had gone completely and the day turned dark.

Strangely enough, though we were out on the forest trails for an extended period of time, we came across no one else. We were earlier than usual, just after noon when we set out, so that was a little surprising. In any event, Jackie and Jillie had a good run-about. Despite the mild temperature we had put their rubber boots on because yesterday, equally mild and sunny, when we exited the ravine and walked with them down the street they began lifting their paws and we understood that their tiny feet had picked up road salt put down over the ice and snow to create a less slippery surface, that has the effect of making snow feel excruciatingly icy on dogs' feet.

The solution to that is to carry them from the ravine entrance to our house, just a two-minute walk or so down the street. Certainly they have their feet washed when we return home, but to avoid such discomfort for them it's best to use the rubber boots to shield them from salt-caused pain, because pain it is. We were also aware that while we were in the ravine Jillie had on several occasions more than sniffed offal left behind by other dogs passing through. It's a problem, one we find almost impossible to solve since chastening them does no good; they find it irresistible. That she did this led us to expect she would feel ill later on in the day.

By the time we set off for our Byward Market assignation, the sky was occluded completely, not a bit of blue, much less chance of a glimpse of sun poking through. But the drive as always along the Eastern Parkway following the Ottawa River is restful and boasts little traffic,and the views of the river, frozen over and entirely snow-blanketed are always interesting.

The last time we were at the market, not all that long ago, was a much colder day, windier and overcast and there were few pedestrians; this time a different story altogether prevailed. People are sick of being cloistered within throughout these long winter months, anxious to finally get out and yesterday seemed, it appears, as good a day as any to do just that. So an amazing number of people thronged about the Byward Market, visiting their favourite haunts and there were even a few stalls up selling maple syrup from last year and hand-made objects from near and far.

I read the newspapers while my husband did his shopping and Jackie and Jillie snoozed comfortably behind me. On our return trip home first Jackie threw up, and then Jillie, so the car interior wasn't exactly fragrant. As soon as we turned onto our street the poor little mites perked up visibly, excited and happy to be back home.

Once home, Jillie repeatedly cleansed her stomach, to put it mildly, of the irresistible bits of poop she had ingested, once asking to go outside, the other times content to spew all she had eaten that day, upstairs on the floor in our bedroom. She was not a well little dog.

By evening things had resolved themselves. She was ready to cuddle on the loveseat between us as we watched an excellent film, "Frantz", set in immediately post-war World War One, transitioning from resentful peacetime Germany to France, where the loss of the younger generation sent to battle created a screenplay that was absorbing and well-portrayed.

I had finished my Friday morning baking, and my husband had returned from his appointment with the provincial Ministry of Transport for the mandatory past-80-years-of-age eye-and-Alzheimer's tests along with instructions on any newly-introduced traffic rules and the renewal of his driver's license when I mentioned I planned to roast a turkey breast for dinner. My husband recalled that he'd used the last of the cranberry sauce, so I looked in the freezer and grabbed a bag of cranberries and it took about ten minutes to make fresh cranberry sauce, then off we went to the ravine for our afternoon amble through forest trails with Jackie and Jillie.

They were more than ready to set out for a hike in the woods. And, since the day turned out just perfect with a clear blue sky, the sun warming the atmosphere and a high temperature that soared to 2C, (albeit with a brisk wind), it couldn't have been more perfect for an idyllic winter day. So much so that we decided they had no need for their rubber boots, and would do fine on the trails without them this day.

Off we went, glad to note that the last snowfall's embellishment on the well-trodden trails had almost -- not quite, but almost -- been tamped down, making progress less of a problem than what faced us the day before. It was mildly surprising that snow still remained on the trees, given the ferocity of the wind the day before, just after the snowfall. But there it was, branches and tree trunks limned with white to show off the otherwise-overlooked details of the forest mass.

And it was particularly notable that the accumulated snow on the footbridges over the now-frozen creek running through the bottom of the ravine had acquired quite a spectacular height, almost burying the bridge itself, so that traversing it we walk at a level of height we'd never imagine outside of winter. One of the dessicated old benches that we pass on one of the promontories is now almost buried in the snowpack.

Jackie and Jillie would stop occasionally in their forward march to sniff out the possibility that some dog of their acquaintance had passed, or even better was somewhere in close proximity, giving them reason to believe they would soon meet. Either Jackie or Jillie would suddenly run off in anticipation only to return to begin their little drama all over again.

We did eventually come across one dog they're acquainted with, a youngish Australian sheep dog from a house close to the foot of our street, being walked by a young man, fittingly enough. His mother and the dog's usual companion nowhere in sight, because she had gone off to Mexico for several weeks of relaxation, joining her sister and brother-in-law who had already been there for over a month.

The dogs in both families whom we might see frequently throughout the course of a week going through the forest trails have been reliant on the moods of the offspring of their usual walkers to offer them the opportunity to run about through the woods, an occasional treat now, until their primary-care humans return from their holidays far, far from Ottawa's winter season.

In childhood new-fallen snow is a wonder, a magical trick courtesy of nature and it means playtime!! in spades. When children grow older another meaning attaches to snowfalls; when they're really heavy and have left behind a sizeable deposit on the ground, snow-days are called and that means a holiday, a day off from school. What combination could beat that? not only snow to revel in, but time to do it, when school isn't mandatory but playtime is.

When we're adults snow has a number of meanings attached to its presence; for most employed people it means a longer commute to work, and the need to shovel, neither guaranteed to bring smiles to anyone's face. On the other hand, new snow beckons skiers, snow-boarders, and anyone who wants to strap on snowshoes along with those committed to their outdoor walks in any weather, particularly when they're privileged to live close by an urban forest.

Pet owners are conscious of their obligation to their companion pets needing to be out for some exercise and other less mentionable activities, and the dogs themselves go a trifle berserk with joy as soon as they feel the fluff of cold snow underfoot. They have no need to arrive on time at a workplace or to shovel out a driveway beset with snow, it's all play, all the time.

When we're out in the ravine daily hiking through the forest trails with Jackie and Jillie we come across all sorts of people, all breeds of dogs, and though they aren't really representative of the general population since forest-hiking aficionados represents a very small proportion of society, they're still a diverse lot with one thing in common; an appreciation of natural surroundings.

The night before yesterday we had another snowfall to add to the 300+cm we've already received this winter, and in this climate and this region winter is a long way from completing its annual presence. Overnight another 7.5 cm of snow fell, not a large amount but significant enough to require shovelling, while on the good-news side, it covered the thick accumulated ice on driveways and roads.

Mind, it did once again make traversing the forest trails a little more challenging, adding depth and a cluster-effect that tricks boots into slipping and sliding, but it also decked out the trees nicely in a new coating of white fluff, to enrapture the eye. The day was heavily overcast, and a few light flurries fell now and again. The high reached a very acceptable 2C, though the gusting wind did its best to diminish the feeling of relative warmth.

Jackie and Jillie saw no other dogs out, and none of the usual people that we often see on the trails were about at the time that we were. But along came a tall, lean man on snowshoes; unremarkable in itself other than for the fact that the way he locomoted with them resulted in each step wafting a considerable wave of loose snow behind him to hit his lower body, so he was well snow-covered in back from the waist downward. In our experience with snowshoes such never occurred and when we'd snowshoed it was in areas in wilderness preserves that required snowshoes to get about.

And then along came a young bearded man on a bicycle with balloon tires. We were aware of his presence well before he appeared, having heard the repeated sound of bicycle brakes, squealing through the atmosphere. He passed us several times as we negotiated the trails; swooshing downhill in a fury of motion, then walking his bicycle uphill through the snow to attain the high plateaus. Jackie and Jillie were somewhat puzzled, but found it great fun to run after the fellow on the bike, necessitating our calling them back repeatedly.

One thing; assuredly a good time was had by all.