One of the most invariably-cheerful of the ravine hikers we've known for awhile whose companion is a beautifully proportioned-and-coated short-haired pointer told us when we came across him yesterday that we're due for at least another week of sub-zero temperatures and windy gales along with snow and then March is presumably going to calm down and relent, bidding the harshest winter elements adieu for another year. That famous old saying ... we'll believe it when we see it?

No complaints about the amount of sunshine we've been greeted with daily in between the overcast and snowstorms, though. As for the cold, well, it's winter, even if it's proving to be a harsher winter weather-wise than is considered 'normal' here. Winters always seem to drag on in this area, arriving earlier than elsewhere and departing much, much later than all reasonable expectations.

On Sunday there were ample people about despite the cold and the wind, airing their lungs, enjoying the landscape, getting some notable exercise heaving themselves up and down the hillsides and exposing their dogs to the sublime pleasures of a natural woodland setting. As a result, for the last two days Jackie and Jillie have been exposed to opportunities to play with other dogs far more frequently than usually occurs.

And in the process we've come across people we've never seen before, like the woman walking two very small, snowy-white Shih Tzu-type dogs, just as rambunctious as any large, energetic dogs, and as assertive as two little dogs can be. It was amusing to see the two -- one considerably smaller than the other -- mingling with our two black, long-legged poodles in their getting-acquainted ceremony.

At one point on Sunday we were suddenly confronted with a large dog with some lab in her, with a reddish-golden coat who erupted from the valley below the crest we were walking on, curious about all the barking coming from Jackie and Jillie and eager to play. She was soon followed by a young woman and then a young man bearing a beautiful 14-month-old little girl in a backpack, smiling happily at the commotion around her. Made me think of all the times we'd done the same with our granddaughter, and she's now 24.

People were out just having a good time. Our faces and noses were pinched with cold, the wind whipping the cold across our faces despite our hoods meant to break the wind, but everyone looked happy. Not that there's a fierce traffic of people going by on the trails; in an hour of trekking if we see three people we consider that a lot.

But when we do come across others, they usually exhibit an elevated mood. That's the thing though, about setting out for a hike through a forest; irrespective of your mood when you begin, by the time you've exhausted the trail, your feelings have reached an emotional state of placidity and satisfaction with life; cares smoothed gently over, and calm settling nicely into one's attitude. It's a respite, a balm for the soul.

We'd gone out right after breakfast on Monday because of the weather report that claimed the high for the day at -2C (though it was -14C when we came down for breakfast, then quickly warmed up; our electronic thermometers play a game of 'fooled you!' with us when the sun shines directly on them, one in the frint of the house, the other at the back, so we can never quite credit the values they give us) and with an increasingly blasting wind to make the afternoon a little comfortable. So we meant to avoid that. It certainly felt much colder when we were out there.

On the other hand, that's quite explicable. The snowpack is so high and voluminous that it radiates cold constantly into the greater atmosphere, and we catch it when we're out there. And some of the valleys seem colder than the trails at the height of the ravine where there is greater exposure to the rays of the sun shining through the forest canopy.

One thing is certain; when the melt does begin we're likely to have a frenzy of flooding everywhere and the creek will become a roaring, frothing runway of snowmelt racing its way down to the river. Fine for ducks passing through and the occasional Great Blue Heron, not so good for little dogs which, in their curiosity, could be swept down by the roiling rush. Just as glad that Jackie and Jillie have never expressed an interest in wading through the creek.