We woke yesterday to a light dusting of snow covering the out-of-doors. It would end up being an all-day snow event. But not, definitely not a snowstorm. Snow fell lightly and lazily. True, there was some accumulation but not much. Just enough happily, to restore that virginal winter appearance that we so much value and which is an absolute necessity for the approaching Christmas holiday.

Not enough to shovel, unless you're one of those people who are punctilious about responding to the appearance of snow, feeling driven to expunge it from walkways and driveways. We're not bothered by the presence of snow. It's winter, after all. The puppies think it's glorious. Until their tender little paws get caked with snow that turns into ice as they trot along. Then they make an effort to stop, and try to chew it away. That's one of the reasons that boots come in handy for them.

By the time we felt ready to take ourselves out to the ravine for a nice hike through the forest trails, there was the layered appearance of a fluffy, white invitation to indulge. We'd both been busy doing our various household activities. It's always this way; when enough time has elapsed after breakfast and Jackie and Jillie can see no indication that we're preparing to take them out for a walk in the woods they get restless.

They turn their enquiring eyes on us as though to ask what's the problem? Why is it more important for  you to make up the beds (theirs and ours), quick-clean the bathrooms and the kitchen, fiddle around with food preparation, than it is to get all of us out for fresh air and exercise? Jillie confronted me yesterday with these queries bright in her beautiful eyes. And not long after that we set out.

Once we reach the ravine entrance, they break hurriedly away from us, cantering forward to the top of the hill that descends into the ravine. Jillie is always on the lookout for anyone else out and about. And there's no end of things to be investigated from that point onward; anything  unusual that they don't recall seeing or smelling the day before must be checked out thoroughly.

Even so, with all their stops-and-starts they sprint way ahead of us. If we insist, they'll return and obediently remain beside us for all of two seconds before popping the bubble of obedience and once again springing forward, sometimes as a duo, sometimes one, then the other. Jillie has a habit if she has been chastized, to hang directly behind and rub her head on the back of one of my calves as we stride along, until she feels she has done sufficient penance and once again takes herself off.

The landscape caresses our eyes when it's been freshly brushed with snow. It's radiant and soothing, everything familiar has a sheen and a softness not seen otherwise than sprinkled with a generous fluff of newfallen snow. The sight fixes our eyes and fills our minds with the mysteries and majesty of nature in all her permutations of season and circumstance.

We did come across others at one point when we were labouring up a hill. Under that lovely, pristine snow remains a layer of very firm ice. The cleats strapped over our boots for leverage on the ice are pretty good, but there remains a tendency to slip on the ice nonetheless. So we've got to exercise caution and be careful where we place our boots.

In these circumstances we have to rely on memory, what we recall from where the ice was most prevalent over the trail, from what we'd experienced the day before, when we could actually see the ice and avoid it, choosing patches where the ice had melted, leaving parts of the trail safe to tread. The layer of snow over all hid the presence of the ice, so guesswork was in order.

Descending and ascending meant taking the time to select where to safely venture; the middle of the trail is always the likeliest place where the ice remains, so negotiating the trail either on the left or the right usually works best. In some places, however, there is no 'left' or 'right' to consider as an option, since in some areas the ice remains intact right across the trail. Even Jackie and Jillie were slipping.

The man we met, new to our acquaintance, was walking a lively and beautiful poodle mix, focusing on digging in the snow to see what lay beneath, and only mildly interested in meeting Jackie and Jillie. All three perfunctorily performed the usual ritualistic greeting considered polite by canines and definitely not by humans. The man paused after an exchange of greetings and we were given a swift micro-biographical sketch; retired, originally from down east, considering selling the family home and returning down east ...