A light dusting of snow had settled over the landscape yesterday. In fact, though there were light snow flurries drifting down from an overcast sky intermittently sunny, then overcast again with more snow coming down throughout the day, not much of an accumulation resulted. The result of which was good, firm footing on the forest trails as we made our way through the ravine yesterday.

The following day, we knew, would be an entirely different story. Destined to be colder than the -6C  we were experiencing, with serious snowfalls overnight and continuing on through the daylight hours for an anticipated accumulation of over 20cm.

The forest interior is always dark, even when there is sun overhead lighting up the forest canopy but not fully infiltrating the trees enough to lift the perpetual dusk. On the other hand, the snowpack that remains all winter and grows with each successive snowfall, ensures that there is a combination of dusk and light.

Whenever the sun poked through the denseness of the gathered tree trunks, sending shafts of brilliant light through the dark trunks, I lifted my camera to capture the vibrant, ethereal blast of light against the silhouette of dark trees, but none of the snaps I took yesterday were of any use. Usually, when it's around half-past three in the afternoon or more closely approaching four in mid-winter the sun's blaze can be photo-captured.

Earlier in the afternoon it's almost as though the sun is too luminously hot, and festive 'balloons' of bright, transparent colour burst onto the photographs, shielding the landscape and the sun from a photographic capture. It's a bit of a struggle, juggling camera and Jackie's leash, my nose dripping from the cold as I grope for tissues in my jacket pocket. Multi-tasking of that nature while trying to control the retractable leash to ensure my little charge doesn't get twined around his sister's leash or a tree sapling is a decided challenge. Both to attention and intention.

Damping their enthusiasm for investigating anything unusual on the snowy pathways, or attempting to charge ahead as they normally would, to check out smells and sounds we cannot ourselves fathom, much less be aware of, isn't our intention, but it is a consequence of leashing them continually. There's no opportunity for a truly relaxed ramble through the trails with the puppies, as long as we continue to be alert to the possibility that coyotes are stealthily watching our progress and assessing their opportunities....

As we finally made our way up the last of the hills to exit the ravine and return home, our friend
Sheila with her three border collies was making her way downhill to access the trails we had just left. The three border collies, like all mid-to-larger dogs, are not restrained, and can wander at will, where they will. Sheila and her husband Barrie have few concerns of an untoward event occurring. Their dogs are so well trained they respond in an instant to being recalled, reflecting their reputation as the most intelligent of dog breeds.

I asked her if she happened to see a rubber cleat lying on the trail at some point, to place it on a conspicuous branch so I could pick it up the next day. The other of the pair was in my hands; I had retrieved it just as it began to fall off my boot, then realized its twin was missing. Sheila was wearing a pair she'd bought years ago, a tougher rubber that extended much further up the boot toe and around the heel, and which never falls off, for which she had paid very little.

As is typical with a consumer item that is well designed and robust, it appears they're no longer being manufactured and sold.They just don't fit into the mould of built-in-obsolescence that reflects the manufacture of 'semi-disposable' objects with short life limits.