Finally, the snow piled on the metal canopy sitting on the deck is melting. It's the sun. And I'm glad it's going because it's a thin metal roof and cannot hold more than six inches of snow safely. The melt means that my husband won't have to go out on the deck with a long-handled retractable rake to pull the accumulated snow down. And of course it's not just the sun, but that accompanying the sun the temperature has finally relented, and pumped itself up to 0C this afternoon.

Still, by the time we got ourselves out to the ravine it was already after three in the afternoon. Not late at any other season of the year, but on these short days of light, very late, since dusk is already resident in the forest and darkness falls quickly. By half-past four dark begins to rapidly descend. And with it, of course, a drop in temperature.

This is, as well, the shortest daylight day of the year. Henceforth, by tiny increments daylight hours will begin lengthening. We won't see much of a difference for quite a while, but it'll be there. By February we'll be marvelling at the difference a lengthened daylight makes to the day.

Since it was so mild, we knew that Jackie and Jillie wouldn't need their boots, and nor would they require sweaters under their winter coats, so that makes preparations to get outdoors a little quicker and no doubt gives them some relief of the burden of keeping warm. Truth to tell, even when they're well wrapped in boots, sweater and jacket, none of it seems to make much a difference to them; they give no indication of discomfort or annoyance, just romp about and race ahead as usual.

Just as we were descending into the ravine, along came three dogs, two black Scottish terriers and and a smallish blonde hound, so there was some interaction between what turned out to be a passel of five dogs. Eventually, the man walking them caught up and he was completely absorbed in his cellphone. Usually when we come abreast of others in the ravine it's an opportunity to acknowledge the presence of others, a nod, a brief greeting, and sometimes an extended conversation. Dog owners always have a lot to talk about with one another.

And most people who enter the ravine with companion dogs eschew speaking on cellphones, preferring to attend to their dogs, to enjoying the sight of their dogs enjoying themselves, so to speak, along with taking note of the landscape and deriving pleasure from being out and about in such an exceptional natural setting.

The footing on the snow-and-icy trails couldn't be better, enticing us to commit to a longer circuit than usual. And the weather conditions did the same for many people. If you're trekking along trails on the ravine heights overlooking trails deeper in the ravine you can always see through the now-leafless trees below whether there are others about, and the reverse too is true, that from the valleys there are sightlines now and again to the trails high above. Unusually, we saw others out and about in the distance with their dogs, making the most of their Sunday leisure.

At half-past three in the afternoon the sun was sailing very low on the horizon. To our left, looking above through the forest canopy the sky was crowded with silvery clouds. To the right, the setting sun. Its fierce setting glow piercing through the darkening forest with its rigid stands of dark-trunked trees, the only relief being the presence of snow remaining on boughs of evergreens.