It's quite surprising even at this time of year when day-time highs haven't budged above -6C, and night-time lows linger around -26C, the amount of sunlight we're fortunate enough to have day following day. Even more surprising the strength of the sun at this time of year, its growing warmth and the ferocious light it casts over a landscape deep in snow.

And it seems to me despite the mountains of snow that have accumulated on peoples' lawns, in some places above my modest height of five feet, and the hard-packed trails in the ravine beside which the bouffant layers of snow cover the forest floor to a depth that can be estimated by how high we now stand beside trees with distinguishing marks and upon the bridges going over the creek at the bottom of the ravine, that the very warmth of the sun is gradually melting the top layers.

Where now the top rail of the bridges is about at my waist, I usually, without the presence of snow, cannot even see over that top rail to the creek below. So while our atmosphere remains firmly in the grip of a colder-than-usual winter, and we've received more snow this winter than is 'normal' for a region that generally receives about 250 cm annually, the inexorable change to spring can be assumed.

Despite which, we're in for another snowfall of an estimated 5 to10 cm overnight. Yesterday the sun blazed its beams of light through the forest canopy to illuminate the fores tin all its winter glory as we trekked through the  trails with Jackie and Jillie. An emphatic wind made it seem, of course, much icier than the -6C high that prevailed that day. I was wearing four layers of light tops under my old down-filled jacket. It's a jacket we bought twelve years ago for our granddaughter which she outgrew and I inherited.

Because it's been almost a week since that last monster snowstorm that shut down schools and universities, merited warnings to people not to go out on the highways, shuttered businesses and encouraged people to take a day off from work, the presence of ice underfoot has once again become a bit of a problem. Most peoples' driveways really have become skating rinks, and we have to assume a certain measure of caution even with our ice-cleats strapped over our boots as we make our way up the street toward the ravine, negotiating the icy surface there.

Once in the ravine, however, things improve mightily underfoot. The wind isn't as penetrating, though I still felt the ghost of icy fingers through the layers protecting my midriff. Little fazes Jackie and Jillie, and they plow strait ahead, racing one another in an excess of exuberant expectation down the long first hill into the forest. By the time we exit, however, there's invariably little balls of icy snow hanging on their leg hair, just above where their rubber boots leave off.

We came across a little terrier mix yesterday, so of course Jackie and Jillie set about harassing the little fellow. He's 13 years old, and the way two three-year-old dogs interact with dogs a decade older speaks volumes about why older dogs aren't particularly enamoured of younger dogs. They're impudent and rude, getting in older dogs' faces when all they want is to be left alone. It's not that old dogs become cranky, it's that they want their personal space free of the presence of so much unappreciated energy.

So the little dog was decidedly unhappy at Jackie and Jillie's antics, surrounding him and daring him to interact with them, which it most definitely wasn't interested in. So much so that he hung back as everyone proceeded up yet another hill, allowing his human to get out of sight and quite alarming us at the prospect of a lost little dog. Once the fellow realized his dog was no longer with him, however, he returned to call him forward, but to no avail. He wasn't upset at the presence of a much larger black dog which was itself laid back and not bothering him.

So we ordered Jackie and Jillie front and center and made off along the opposite trail and the little dog was prevailed upon finally to trudge his way uphill and after his human. Jackie and Jillie, oblivious to the distress they caused, simply romped ahead enjoying their outing.