We woke this morning to one of the darkest  mornings we can recall. No light from outside streaming through the windows. Dismally grey. But every day is a surprise and each day a bonus in living for us. The dim exterior made it almost seem as though nature was in mourning for all the people who lost their lives on Wednesday in a passenger jet taking off from Tehran airport.

And we, so far from the geographic area where terror seems at times to reign supreme, have the knowledge that there isn't that much that separates us from those who left the very city we live in to visit with family, never to return to Canada. Therein lies our good fortune, in never wishing to travel to such a malignant place, in the process risking our very lives.

We simply put on a lot of lights to dispel the gloom as we sat down to breakfast, and then in peace and serenity with life and the world around us, were jolted back to the reality that others face, when we opened our daily newspaper.

Yesterday, the day was frigidly icy, a wind whipping the -14C high for the day in our faces as we hiked our way through the forest trails in the ravine. The creek was icing over yet again as it snaked its way through the ravine, and we watched briefly as the goldfish that have established themselves there, floated about in their little pool. We thought that finally, a normal winter would ensue with a long string of very cold days and nights.

But the temperature kept rising overnight and by morning it was -4C, and rising. The next several days will be above freezing, so much for the creek icing over again. And rain expected. So we opted for a morning jaunt in the ravine today to ensure we could get out if it rained in the afternoon, and set off right after breakfast, deciding to do a reverse circuit, so we came across the pond and the fish as we began our circuit, and there they were, bright orange specks in an icy stream at the bottom of a ravine in a forest.

Given all the chatter lately among our ravine-tramping acquaintances about the ever-bolder presence of coyotes and a reported attack on a large dog that afterward required surgery, the dusky gloom of the forest interior made us fairly nervous. We kept our two little dogs on leash. They'll become accustomed to walking about that way, even if they feel constrained at times and we feel regretful that they haven't the full freedom to gad about wherever their moods take them.

The coyotes have been spotted in the ravine between the hours of dusk and dawn for many years. And we comforted ourselves with the notion that since we're always out in broad daylight and we were vigilant and we kept Jackie and Jillie in easy sight, all would be well. Now we have to question that attitude in light of people we know well, telling us they'd seen furtive coyotes on occasion, showing us photographs they'd taken. They're not quite so furtive any longer, it would seem.