By the time I had finished cleaning the house today the day was veering toward late afternoon, and the temperature was -6C and falling, with a biting wind accompanying the cold. On the positive end of things though, it had been snowing again all day and the snow was just petering off when we emerged from the house into the outdoors to view yet again a whitewashed world before us.

Not all that much snow had fallen in fact, no more than four cm at most, but what a beautiful mantle covered everything, including yesterday's snow which, despite another all-day event, had left  us with even less than today's offering. Of course it'll mean being required to shovel the snow off walkways and driveways, but tomorrow's another day.

More to the point was our destination with two little anxious dogs, not wanting to miss their daily tramp through the forest, and nor would we want to on our own behalf. As we entered the forest and descended into the ravine we noted that many others had been out before us, tamping the trails down nicely. Among them someone on skis and someone else on a bicycle equipped with balloon tires.

Lazy spirals of snow were still lightly descending, catching light from the overcast sky. It is surprising that even when the sky glimpsed through the forest canopy seems a reverse mirror image of the snow slathered on the forest floor, there is light from some source to capture the twinkle of falling snowflakes.

It's cold enough again and will remain so for awhile, as is fitting for January, and the creek will begin once again to freeze over. But it's running water and freeze-up won't be complete; the central portion of the creek will remain open while the sides will eventually grow a layer of ice. Beyond the rapids, however, and in the tributaries of the creek there will be a total freeze, the ice becoming thick and able to carry a person's weight.

At one juncture in our forays on the trails we saw on another trail abutting the one we were on in the distance, someone walking no fewer than six dogs. We've seen him before, a dog walker. The dogs with him are all large but for one low-to-the-ground miniature Dachshund that follows devotedly at the man's heels, while the other five, all large breeds, scatter here and there in the forest interior but not that far that his whistle doesn't recall them.

And then, approaching at our backs, a woman walking a Boxer, interested in playing with Jackie and Jillie, who reciprocated with a determination to live up to the reputation of stubbornly irritating little dogs like themselves, by barking constantly, leaving us as perplexed as usual over their inability or unwillingness to socialize other than with dogs they've known for a long time.

We know it's breed-specific behaviour; out puzzlement stems from the fact that as intelligent dogs they're unable to transcend inbred characteristics for other learned behaviours.

By this time it was approaching four o'clock and dusk was beginning to creep in. The low cloud ceiling was breaking up and we could see as the sun began to set, waves of pink and blue in the sky with the forest silhouetted against those bands of pastel colours. And there too was an almost-full moon, glowing high in the sky, taking its heavenly place with the sun's departure.