Yesterday, the street outside our house was turned into a slush-field of melting ice. For the first time we can ever recall a huge municipal plow drove back and forth on the street to remove the snow of the day before when about ten cm of snow fell and then the precipitation turned to freezing rain; this, atop a season's accumulation of ice on the road, but it did so with a new mechanism that restrained it from filling in driveways, what a minor miracle!

My husband had just finished shovelling out the backyard walkways for Jackie and Jillie and the side walk at the side of the house, then the walk up to the porch and the porch itself. The snow on the porch had been trampled with tiny footpads of all the little animals scrabbling to find seeds, nuts and bread under the new snow that my husband put out for them the night before. First order of business after clearing away the snow was to replenish the pile.

On Sunday because rain began in the wake of overnight snow, and then freezing rain with no let-up we had no ravine walk. Out we went yesterday afternoon on the mildest-temperature day yet, of 4C. But wind, there's always wind, and this one was strenuous enough in impact to make for real discomfort despite the moderated temperature. As for our progress up the street, well it was a picky affair trying to avoid the large puddles of salty-ice-water that had materialized, instead plunging into the wet morass of remaining ice and snow edging toward melt.

When traversing the road is so challenging we tend to carry Jackie and Jillie over from the house to the ravine entrance; just as well they're so small. I leave the heavier of our two little burdens to my husband and I hoist Jackie, the skinnier of the siblings. The moment we set them down on the trail, off they bounce excitedly to the crest of the hill and downward into the ravine. For us it was tough going, since the trail, with new snow and a change in conditions, was no longer icy and each step we took brought us forward only to have our feet sucked backward again.

The creek is now open and running freely, frothing here and there. Crows were circling above the canopy, calling. We kept an eye out for the presence of owls, but saw none. We did see some others out, a large, happy black Lab that kept inviting Jackie and Jillie to run with him, finally giving up and splaying himself out on the snow, as though on a deep-seated couch, relaxing in the cool comfort of its plushy invitation.

We walked alongside the Lab and its person for awhile; there's always so much to talk about. And then came across another acquaintance with her two rambunctious Irish Setters, and suddenly Jackie and Jillie came alive to the pleasures inherent in running about as a pack, then finally rushing over to where they could all detect the heavenly aroma of dog treats on offer....

It's where we come close to exiting our circuit, looking up and over to the edges of the ravine bordering on the street we live on that some captivating sky scenes can be seen in the landscape reflecting the vicissitudes of weather. And though I most often use that background to capture a relatively unobstructed view of enchanting blue hosting a scintillating sun, yesterday there was just a faint outline of the sun struggling against a ragged charcoal grey cloud in a snow-pewter sky that kept releasing powdery snow-fluffs into the atmosphere.