We had an intimation of what the day would allow us to do and what it would not be feasible for us to plan when we walked down the steps from our second floor to the first, glanced out the glassed front door and saw snow falling. We had no idea how long it had been snowing, but the fresh snow nicely covered the season's snowpack that had begun melting, freshening it beautifully.

We had to do the usual mental shrug of acceptance of the inevitable with March even if this was the penultimate day and March had been given ample opportunity earlier in its winter reign to wreak havoc on the landscape. Never satisfied, March always has more in store, and was unleashing that 'more' yesterday. When we were having our breakfast, looking out the patio doors we could see that the snow had intensified, falling in great fluffy gobs. Beautiful to behold, especially if it had been January, but the end of March?

No matter, down it came. But by noon it was over. Instead what had fallen as snow began coming down as freezing rain. Sleet is, for our purposes, less amenable than snow. No one in their right mind with two little dogs plans to head out to a forest for a leisurely hike along the ravined trails in pouring rain in a season that resents leaving in favour of spring's entrance.

The rain continued into the afternoon. Which meant no ravine walk. By that time I had decided that it was past time to begin what I had been putting off. Similarly, when looking out of the house onto a decidedly wintry landscape, our gardens deep in snow, the urge to begin spring cleaning just isn't there. Not that the prospect of indulging in days and days of cleaning out cupboards is anyone's idea of a particularly pleasant pastime...it's just one of those things you do. And so I began.

The pantry in the kitchen was my first target. It's a must-do, to take stock as an example, and get rid of things you can dispense with. I wrapped quite a few items in newspapers to take along to the Sally Ann recycling depot; glass vases, glass juice containers that I hadn't used in ages and likely never would again; small glass dispensers, extraneous baking dishes. And in that portion of the pantry where baking supplies, canned foods, jams, are kept some order was required and assessment of what was there and what might be outdated. It's a start.

From time to time one of us would initiate a bit of play through the day with Jackie and Jillie, to throw around tennis balls or knotted mittens that they much prefer to play with, to get them going until they felt like independently playing and tussling about with one another. Jillie is more of a snoozer, while her brother enjoys standing at the front door, barking and harassing the squirrels coming by for treats laid out on the porch.

In the evening, we watched three segments of a British Masterpiece Theatre series called Indian Summers; a fascinating drama focusing on the dying days of the British Raj. No other cinematic entities can beat British cinema at depicting itself as an arrogant, entitled occupier of a foreign land under the self-appointed task of relieving developing countries of their natural resources, in the process leaving them with the inestimable riches of British jurisprudence, bureaucracy, snobbery and cricket.

Theirs was in some ways an issue of noblesse oblige; viewing themselves as altruistically dedicated to the advancement of civilization to countries whose civilization long predated Britain's, endowing those countries with the indelible stamp of British colonialist rule. They viewed themselves as benevolent in their dictation to others what they should value and how they should behave.

Coincidentally, last night I finished reading 7 Years in Tibet, a fascinating first-hand account that described another Asian nation under colonial duress by a powerful neighbour whose outreach in the interests of territorial expansion was not resistible by a much smaller, less warlike nation of Buddhists. No one could ever accuse the Chinese of being guilty of benevolence toward others.