Infamously, winter has a well-earned reputation in this the northern climate that we inhabit, of resistance to pleas regarding overstaying its welcome. Oh, we welcome winter when it first arrives; it relieves us of the dismal, dark and stark landscape that late fall places us in once the colour has dissipated, the foliage disappeared from deciduous trees and the ground turned to muck from continual freeze-and-thaw cycles before the advent of frost entering the ground for the following four months.

When winter arrives the sun returns, and snowstorms decorate the area beautifully and we are enthralled and children and winter-sport enthusiasts acclaim the entry of winter dispatching the gloom of late autumn. But after while, as in all things when variety ceases and same-old increases, we wonder when the icy-cold, the blasting winds and the incessant ice-storms and snowfalls will surrender to spring.

Not yet. Yes, it's March, but we're still gripped in winter; night-time lows still average -14C. And winter shows no signs of loosening that grip. When we were out in the ravine yesterday -- before we even got that far, on the road leading to the ravine entrance -- it was abundantly clear that icy surfaces were all we would encounter. When the municipality sent heavy equipment to score the inches-thick glare ice on the road it did help somewhat. But 'somewhat' is the operative here.

And in the ravine the forest trails remain well iced. Woe betide any who venture there without the assistance of cleats to maintain grip on that surface when boots touch ice and the inclination is to lose control and balance. They're well advised to remain on the upper, flat areas and confine themselves there. Falling on the accumulated snowpack isn't bad, I've done it often, but there's no guarantee where one will fall, in which direction and what will be hit; protruding stumps, hard icy surfaces, or benign, relatively soft snowpack. So ascending and descending hills in the ravine has its hazards.

But there were plenty out yesterday with their dogs and occasionally with children, on the trails. The high was -4C, with a lighter wind, though it felt damp and that adds to the feeling of cold. We did wake this morning to a light sprinkling of new snow, about 4 cm, which yesterday's humidity presaged. We came across a two-year-old toddler so bundled in snowgear he could make little headway up one of the hills, his father carrying the child's sled, and their faithful German Shepherd accompanying them alongside.

Other than that we came across a few little terriers (and a Dalmatian) with an overabundance of energy given only to puppies in their formative years, when ripping across a natural landscape in an ecstasy of freedom and love of life and the mysteries to be discovered around every corner would soften the heart of even the most sociopathic of individuals. So Jackie and Jillie had the opportunity to do a little socializing throughout our hike.

Just as we crossed the last bridge fording the creek in the ravine on our way to the long uphill clamber to street level, my husband called out to me and startled, I turned and fleetingly saw four ducks flying at low level to an open portion of the otherwise-frozen creek, to settle there. A nice conclusion to a pleasant afternoon walk in the ravine. We don't think there's too much ducks will feed on in the creek and without doubt they'll head toward the Ottawa River, still frozen, but open directly adjacent to the large water-sewage treatment and filtration operation plant that serves the area.