Our region of the Ottawa Valley never really wants for clear skies and bright sunlit days in the winter months. But the other fact is that we get a whole lot of snow throughout the winter months. So it's fair enough to say that the days divide between clear skies and heavily overcast ones. Whenever we're experiencing a spate of cloudy days it somehow seems as though that's the norm, though it isn't.

Our memories trick us as our minds linger on the thought of how long it's been since we last saw the sun. When the truth is it hasn't been that long. Still, waking three mornings in a row to an atmosphere dull with grey, despite the brightening effects of snow remaining on the ground, there's a dismal feeling of being closed in.

We're in one of those spates of overcast days now. Mind, when we delve into the ravined forest where the forest interior always seems to have a twilight aspect, that mood is lifted somewhat with the forest floor steeped in snow, everything gently curving and humped in a bright white landscape. There's enough snow down to form a decent snowpack allowing boots to grip securely on ascents and descents. Just as well, since my boot cleats keep falling off, though my husband's never do.

Yesterday we returned from our afternoon circuit through the forest trails when dusk had set in. Today our circuit was somewhat shorter and we'd left at an earlier hour so even under the dull canopy of clouds there was good light. There are animal tracks everywhere throughout the forest floor. We muse over which might be the pawprints of coyotes now securely resident in the ravine.

I've returned to a retractable leash for Jackie, and he's happier with its use. It affords him a bit more freedom, enabling him to roam just a tad. I've just got to keep alert to ensure that his leash and Jillie's intersect as infrequently as possible. He must regard it as an improvement, since he's no longer pulling as he has been doing with the short leash.

When we passed the last of the bridges over the creek close to the conclusion of today's hike, we looked as usual at the pool that had hosted a gaggle of goldfish for the past month. We felt quite badly that we could no longer sight them the past several days, after a mild day that had melted some of the snowpack, not to mention the rain that fell copiously; over 41 mm-worth had created a swirling rush of water passaging downstream.

We had assumed that the pool wasn't deep enough for the small fish to find refuge in calmer waters deeper than the surface rush that swept everything before it. But there they were, returned to the pool, companionably beside one another as usual. We assumed that the much smaller black ones that our son had pointed out to us weeks ago are also back in residence, though we couldn't see them back then but for mere flickers, and weren't able to determine today whether they too were present.

It did make us feel good, though. Setting aside the reality that as an exotic species they're intruders, not native to our environment, their presence likely displacing other, native species dependent on a finite food source. Despite which, we're happy to see them returned.