The old Farmers Almanac as usual had it right on, warning of a colder-than-usual fall, early winter season muscling out even that cold late-fall, and expectations for a very cold, very snowy winter. It has arrived on cue. Surprising us, irrespective of the fact that we were forewarned. Still mystifying us at its occurrence. Who is ever prepared to welcome unrelenting cold, high winds and snow, other than children anticipating downhill sledding?

But it's here, and we've no choice but to make the best of it. The best of it is wallowing in comfort in our heated homes, drinking tea, reading books. On the other hand, the best of it also includes dressing for warmth and making the effort to wrench ourselves away from the warmth and comfort of a fireplace, a comfortable sofa and the anticipation of a warming, nutritious bowl of hot soup.

The hot soup is readily available. Yesterday, Friday, called for chicken soup and rice for dinner in this household. Along with a dinner comprised of chicken, potatoes and cauliflower. Call it a family tradition, name it a cultural culinary practice, it has its place, particularly at this time of year. It's when the oven gets a workout, roasting chicken breasts, smothered in olive oil, chopped onion, garlic, bell pepper and tomatoes.

And the chicken soup bubbles away on the stove, cooking the dark parts of the chicken; drumstick and thigh, accompanied by garlic, onion, parsnip, carrots and bayleaf. Rice, cooked separately is added at serving time, as is chopped green onion and parsley. And the house becomes fragrantly suffused with the aroma of dinner-to-come. Dessert had been baked much, much earlier in the day, a blueberry pie cooled off for the end-of-dinner treat.

This morning there were light snow flurries yet again, and tonight we're expecting a plunge to -12C overnight, so yes, it's cold and continuing cold. We knew it was windy but didn't realize quite how windy, until we ventured out into the ravine to ramble the forest trails as usual, and the wind ripped through the forest, despite that usually the interior of the forest is protected from high winds at walking level.

We were delighted to come across a young woman we've seen on previous occasions walking her two dogs. This time the dogs were absent, left at home, while she devoted her attention to one tiny puppy, an Australian Shepherd of nine weeks of age. The most adorable, intelligent little creature imaginable. Its high intelligence was immediately apparent, its curiosity about Jackie and Jillie at its tender age revealing a kind of social intelligence that would mark this little fellow apart.

Jackie and Jillie seemed at first equally interested in the vivacious, perky little fellow almost half their size and boldly introducing himself. How the puppy conveyed to them the name given to him, of an illustrious biologist/naturalist, is one of those mysterious communication capabilities that nature endows her creations with, but we learned through the usual human channels of communication that the puppy was named Darwin.