When we cleared the end of the driveway on our way to toddle along the forest trails in the ravine early this afternoon, Jackie and Jillie automatically turned left to meander up the street, our usual route to the destination they look forward to daily. They had followed me upstairs as usual as I changed into a snuggly-warm turtleneck to face the brisk cold of -5C and nippy wind accompanying it. They always know when the time is right.

They excitedly challenged one another to a duel, romping about the bedroom, onto the loveseat, the bed, into the bathroom, zipping right back out again and repeat and repeat. But soon afterward, time to pull on little snug pullovers and their collars? Nowhere to be found. Oh, there's Jillie, hiding her head in some cushions on the sofa downstairs; if she can't see me I can't possibly see her. When she realizes that yes, I can see her very well, over she plops on her back, legs akimbo for me to struggle to set her upright so she can be dressed.

Is Jackie any better? No, not really. He does the flop skit as well, tail wagging madly. Collar  and shirt are only the begging. There's a woolly coat with plush lining to go over the shirt, and over that their winter harness, broad and itself well lined with plush for ultra comfort. Wait: we're not finished yet, because it's snappy-cold out in the forest, and a light dusting of snow has fallen, so they also need their boots today.

Finally, we're done and off we go. Only we take a direction unfamiliar to them -- down the length of the street and then turn left, onto a busy thoroughfare and across the block to another street where ingress to the ravine at another entry means we don't have to forego our trail tramps while our own street ravine entrance is unavailable due to a scheduled test for geological seismic activity.

As with our own entry, there is a trail leading behind houses, and then a steep descent into the ravine to access the forest trails. They've been there on that other trail countless times, but it's still not their own and a tinge of excitement is evident as they speed downhill, finally reaching a point much more familiar, leading us to our usual circuit, only backwards. And when we do take a sidetrail that is completely unknown to them, the frisson of excitement that roils their sensibilities is both comical and rewarding.

Visually, it's a bit of a novelty for us as well since throughout the expanse of the forest there are distinct copses of trees where pines and spruce prevail, or maples and birches, or poplars and oaks, while all the various tree species from hemlock to fir, beech or willow are elsewhere interspersed, each area representing a landscape of its very own.

Our circuit completed for the afternoon, we make our way back onto the street and there come across Margaret, doing her daily turn-about, one of our neighbours living on a street behind our own, who tells us she and her husband Chris plan to set out next week to drive 'home' to Nova Scotia to spend Christmas with some of their family. Margaret would love to move back home permanently; one of their daughters and grandchildren live in Halifax, but Chris is reluctant; another of their children lives right here, with family.

We wish her a good drive down East, the while thinking how risky it can be to make that long drive at this time of year, but it's one they've made countless times before, and no doubt decided on driving because they have so many Christmas family gifts to haul along with them.

The next person we see is Suzanne who lives close to the foot of our street, walking the miniature long-haired Dachsund that lives directly across the street from her. Suzanne loves dogs but after having lost her own many years ago to illness and old age, she has opted for the pleasure of walking other peoples' dogs rather than committing to having another live with her permanently. She had already been to the ravine earlier in the day on her own where she always does her Tai Chi, for the little dog is no longer interested in going through the ravine, preferring an urbanized walk on busy streets, which we so loathe.