Just one day after a significant snowfall, it's amazing how quickly the trails meandering through the forest in our nearby ravine become tamped down. It never used to be like this. Of course decades ago the trails were also much narrower, and we would, for the most part, have the ravine to ourselves but for a handful of stalwart and determined hikers. During those early years of our residence in this area, the trails themselves would be one bootprint wide, and deep, reflecting the scant numbers forging through. Now, all of our early hiking friends are long gone. Certainly their dogs are.

Although we never thought to imagine it at the time when we mourned the passing of familiar dogs years ago, it seldom occurred to us that one day we would also lose our two little dogs, Button and Riley. But we did, Button at age 19.4 years, and Riley when he was 15 years old. We mourned them, missed them, and brought Jackie and Jillie into our home to live with us four years ago.

Today, out on the trails in the ravine we were surprised at how broadly the track had been pressed down. Mind, 22 cm of snow does makes an impression, particularly over the already-existing snowpack. Step off the beaten track as it were, and you're deep in snow and progress is slow. But stay on the trail and it's an easy go. After the remediation work done on the collapsed slopes of the ravine close to where we live several years ago, a new entrance to the ravine was made, off a major traffic street. And that's what has made the difference.

People unaware of the opportunities, though they were always there, along with several trails, narrow and not quite so evident, led from that same street to the interior of the ravine, both seldom used. The newer, more obvious entrance seems to appeal to greater numbers of nearby residents as an opportunity to get out into a nearby natural landscape. Now, we see people streaming up into the forest, and down into its interior at a volume which, while still modest given the number of people in the community, far outstrip numbers previously seen.

Everyone now knows about the presence of coyotes and the unusual sightings during daylight hours. People walking large dogs don't believe they have anything to be concerned about, for the most part, and those with small dogs now keep them leashed, as we do.

Jackie and Jillie had some company for a brief period during this afternoon's hike through the trails, when we bumped into our friends Sheila and Barry with their three Border Collies. Siblings all. And the most well-behaved dogs anyone might imagine. They obey instantly on command. So though they're middling-sized, should they be confronted with potential trouble, Sheila and Barry feel confident they would be in control of any situation.

It was cold, but the wind didn't seem to penetrate the forest today, so the cold, at -10, was manageable. One of the Border Collies, bored with waiting, but reluctant to move on while we were talking together, sank into the snow which covered halfway over his body. Content to sit in regal aplomb while we shivered, looking at him.

It couldn't have been more picture-perfect as a forest landscape in winter. The sky was clear blue against the predominating white, and the sun burnt its brilliant rays like a fiery ball through the forest canopy. It's going back down to -21C again tonight, and the wind is picking up, so it'll feel quite raw for anyone venturing out this evening. Which won't include us.